Many Paths, One Fate
by amwong88
Summary: She went back in hopes of changing the future. But how does one know if the steps you take are not ones you've already taken before? Tom Riddle Hermione. TRHG.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters do not belong to me unfortunately.

I've recently gained an overwhelming obssession with Tom Riddle and Hermione stories so, to the disgraceful detriment of my other fan fics, I'm decided to devote a large part of my already severely limited free time to writing one myself. I truly hope that you all enjoy reading this as much as I anticipate enjoying writing this!

Warning: Language.

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**Prologue**

The mist of the Forbidden Forest shifted around them, its eerily damp tendrils enveloping their exhausted bodies like the caress of an unwelcome lover. It was then that he saw her face.

"You…"

Hermione clutched her wand, ignoring the bead of cold perspiration trickling down the side of her neck, stinging as it came into contact with the open wounds lying in wait. So it had finally come down to this. They were the only two left.

Her eyes refused to shift downwards. Refused to look upon the beloved, lifeless bodies scattered around her. Harry. Ron. Lupin. They had protected her with their lives and now, there was only her. Her and the creature who had taken them from her.

_I guess this is the end then. _

Furiously blinking away the tears that clung to her lashes, she carefully stepped over Ron's mangled arm as it lay stretched out in the dirt. Arms that would never again open wide for affectionate hugs. Arms that would never again hold her while she screamed and sobbed relentlessly after finding the bodies of her parents. Arms whose future now held nothing but the promise of decay.

Hermione's jaw tightened. She would kill Voldemort. Never mind the fact that everyone she loved had failed in this task. She would make him suffer like she was suffering now.

"What are you waiting for, you sick bastard? I'm only a Mudblood, right? Finish it!"

The suffocating silence that greeted her words was broken by a peal of shrill, demented laughter. Staring straight into the face of the one who had finally accomplished his dream of destroying the entire wizarding world, Hermione noted dully that this was, in fact, the first time she had ever seen him face to face. After all these years, she had only heard terse descriptions of the pallid skin, the flat snake-like features and the sadistic red eyes.

Eyes that were focused wildly on hers as they stood facing each other across the barren clearing. Instead of the cruel pleasure she had been expecting however, Hermione watched incredulously as an indescribable mixture of expressions rushed over that distorted face.

Disbelief. Horror. Anger.

And something else. Something that had been so long suppressed yet, at the same time, held on to so desperately, that its reappearance seemed to shock the wearer as much as it did the watcher.

It was…

_No! _

The refusal to acknowledge even the possibility of its existence thundered inside her mind. Hermione took a determined step forwards, her wand trembling as she raised it to chest-level.

"I don't know what you're playing at but…"

"It's you!"

His voice was raspy, so similar to the hissing noises she had come to associate with Parseltongue. She paused in her advance, the low tones unconsciously triggering some chord deep within her. She gave no answer, choosing instead to see what sort of twisted game he wanted to play.

"I've waited so long. And now it turns out that you're…"

Hermione choked back a whimper when he abruptly kicked the broken body at his feet.

_Harry. _

"…you're the little Mudblood they all adored!"

Hermione opened her mouth to shout a scathing retort but the words died on her lips when she saw it. A silver brooch twisted in the shape of a serpent. The dying rays of moonlight glimmered off its small emerald eyes, the grime and blood of the battle doing nothing to detract from its cherished position high on Voldemort's cloak.

The sight of it caused Hermione to stumble back.

-

_The crackle of logs in the fireplace. _

_The sweet taste of hot cider. _

_The feel of a warm, loving embrace. _

_"Merry Christmas, Tom." _

-

A shuddering breath escaped her lips as Hermione pressed her fist against the matted curls on her head. Squeezing her eyes shut, she desperately tried to control the tremors that wracked her body as wave after wave of memories suddenly flooded, unbidden, into her already-agitated mind.

_They can't be memories. Those things never happened! _

Jerking her head back up, she stared blindly at the towering figure in front of her. Fighting her way through the nausea as a myriad of images tried to insert themselves into her brain, she could dimly make out the hysterical words he was throwing at her.

"I searched for you! Everywhere! You did this to me!"

"No…"

The plea came out as a horrified rush of air. Shaking her head frantically, Hermione didn't know whether she was denying his words or trying to stop herself from registering the scenes unfolding mentally. He saw her motion.

"You did! It was because you left…you left me…"

Slowly, horrifically, the words started to make sense. They entwined themselves with her new _memories_, making her head spin as her vision blurred. The term 'stupid' had never been one used to describe Hermione Granger. Even though her consciousness struggled against it, it simultaneously forced her to acknowledge their devastating message. Blocking out the accusations was the only way she could continue to ignore the disturbing yet undeniable sound of pain and longing in his voice. The girl scrambled at the neck of her robes and tremblingly drew out a long golden chain. Fixing her eyes on the now grief-stricken face of the one the world claimed to have no emotions, Hermione made up her mind. She had no choice really.

She twisted the Time Turner three complete rotations.

-

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**A/N**: This is actually the first fic that I've sat down and jotted out a plan for. Hopefully, this will turn out to be the crowning jewel of my creations so I really look forward to hearing from you. Criticisms and comments are always welcome and much appreciated. BTW, I've recently heard rumors that stories that have review responses will be deleted, so responses to all reviews will be posted on my profile from now on. Thank you!


	2. The beginning

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me but Draco is sooooooo hot!

One of the fastest I've ever updated! Needed to get all these technical details over with so here it is.

Have reposted due to some plot holes I missed the first time. Thank you for pointing them out, you guys! Cor, my writing would be a complete mess if I didn't have all of you hereto keep me on my feet...

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**Chapter 1**

"Hey, wake up."

The feeling of rough grass scraped against her back as someone shook her shoulder gently. Hermione groaned, cracking open her eyes to see a dark figure looming over her. Allowing herself to be hoisted up into a sitting position, she quickly shut her eyes again as the world around her spun uncontrollably in a flurry of dancing colours. Her head was killing her.

"Blimey, wha' happened to you?"

Large hands gingerly pushed the straggly strands of dark hair from her face, unknowingly brushing against the bleeding wounds hidden under her hair. Hermione winced, pulling away from the massive figure crouched down next to her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, yeh look like yeh've been tanglin' with a dragon. And yeh sure ain't the winner."

The voice and pattern of speech sounded oddly familiar but Hermione simply did not have the strength to figure out why. She had never time travelled so far back in time before and the swirling of her surroundings had yet to cease. A shaking hand came up to clamp over her mouth as a wave of nausea threatened to spew out.

"I…I'm sorry but I'm not feeling well…"

There was a loud sound of slapping; apparently her companion had just hit himself on the forehead.

"Gawds, I can't believe I fergot! And here I am just sittin' and talkin' to yeh!"

With that, he bent towards her and before Hermione could open her mouth to utter a feeble protest, he had scooped her up in his arms and was striding hurriedly away.

"It's alright…I can walk."

The boy shook his head. The sun was still in her eyes and she could only barely make out the outline of his shaggy head.

"I'm takin' yeh straight to the school nurse. Them injuries look serious."

"Injuries?"

The word broke the dam of dizziness holding back her memories and they came rushing over her in a horrifying maelstrom. Hermione whipped her head around, wide eyes fully taking in her surroundings for the first time.

She was in still in the Forbidden Forest. But instead of burning trees and scorched grass wrought by a bevy of curses, the environment was untouched. The towering oaks were still shading them, occasionally letting in a sliver or two of sunlight as it peeked through the leafy canopy high above. The scenery changed as her companion left the forest to briskly wind his way up a steep hill. A hill she had run up and down many times before.

"I'm back!"

"Eh?"

The figure peered down at her curiously.

"Excuse me, what year is it?"

Even without seeing it, Hermione could easily feel the surprise emanating from him. She figured he would be scratching his head right about now if it was not for the fact that he was holding her awkwardly in his arms.

"Well, it's 1943. You musta hit yer head hard, yeh poor thing."

She took a deep, steadying breath. The crisp mountain air did wonders for clearing her mind. Even the mustier scent of the castle as they traversed their way through the old corridors was wonderfully familiar.

"I need to…can you take me to see Albus Dumbledore? It's urgent."

"Professor Dumbledore? 'Course I can. But yeh still gotta see the nurse first..."

"No...please, I'm quite alright. I know some healing spells." His doubtful skepticism was glaringly obvious. "I mean, even if I can't do it myself, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore can do just as good of a job as any nurse!"

"Yeah, yeah I guess yeh're right. But yeh gotta make sure yeh see Madame Giggili if it don't heal well. Wotcher need the Professor fer?"

Hermione just shook her head apologetically. Gratefully, he did not press further.

"What's yer name, then?"

"Hermione."

"Pleased ter meet yeh, Hermione. Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of school grounds."

"Hi, Hagrid."

Smiling up at him, she wondered at how different their old friend looked without his trademark beard. Definitely younger and rather like a very large version of Neville really.

They traveled in companionable silence as he wound his way up the stairs towards what Hargid explained as the direction of the Headmaster's office. He assured her that it was his job to bring all visitors to the Headmaster; he did not mean for her to take offense. Hermione found herself being gently lowered to the ground. Wobbling precariously the moment her feet touched the stone floor, she gave a shaky laugh when Hagrid shot out a heavy hand to steady her on the shoulder in alarm.

"I'm alright. Just a bit woozy."

"Yeh sure?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Hagrid."

He seemed hesitant about leaving her there in the hallway by herself but came to the conclusion that he had no choice.

"I'll be sending Professor Dumbledore to yeh. Shouldn't be too long – busy man, he is, but always makes him fer his students…"

She nodded brightly to catch his attention, hoping to halt the inevitable flow of praise before he got in too deep. Smiling widely in reply, he blundered off, his great overcoat dragging behind him.

Given the general air of calmness in the school, Hermione guessed that the school term had not started yet; this was a stroke of good luck. She wanted to make the most of her time here before the seventh years got too swamped with N.E.W.T.S and assignments. Sagging against the cool wall, she closed her eyes for a brief moment. The events of last few days flashed before her and she quickly opened them again to banish the overwhelming sense of loss threatening to seize control of her body. There was no time for self-pity. And if she somehow manages to succeed in her mission, there would be no need for it either.

Trying to relax the tension in her neck, Hermione grimaced when the movement tore open a particularly deep cut there. Touching her wand to the bleeding area, she muttered a quick healing spell, wincing again when she felt the ragged flesh begin to knit itself. Disappointed that there was not a mirror nearby, she tried to heal as many of her wounds as she could. There was no way she could come up with a half-plausible story when she looked like she'd just escaped from Azkaban. Bemoaning her ragged and dirt-encrusted robes, Hermione futilely ran her hands through the tangled rat's nest on her head. She did so like to make a good first impression.

"Nothing a good long shower won't fix, my dear."

She glanced up in surprise. She had not heard anyone approach. The rosy face of an older witch smiled kindly back at her from one of the portraits on the opposite wall.

"Hmm? Yes, I suppose so. Although I didn't really have any time to take one for the past few days."

"Good gracious, child!" The woman in the painting looked suitably shocked. "What on earth have you been doing?"

"Oh, I dunno. Time flies."

She snickered at her little pun. It was good to know that she had not lost what little sense of humour she had.

"I'm sure it does, my dear."

This time, the address came in the form of a deeper, similarly amused tone of voice. Turning to her right, Hermione blinked up into the long-lost face of Albus Dumbledore. He was very much like she remembered, only with a brown beard and a less lined, more carefree face. The trademark little twinkle was presently directed at her from over half-moon glasses and Hermione could feel the tears starting to well up at the sight. If only…if only she could see everyone again! What she wouldn't give to feel this warm rush of joy and relief upon hearing the boys yell at her to stop being such a swot and to get her nose out of her books!

"My dear child, it makes me quite nervous to see someone cry at the sight of me. Come now, take this."

He stretched out his hand. Hermione looked down at the small, yellow candy lying there and promptly burst into loud, hiccupping sobs.

Lemondrop.

It was too much for her to handle. It was like time had never passed; here she was, once again, standing in the halls of Hogwarts, being offered a piece of candy by her Headmaster under the most bewildering circumstances.

_Oh wait, time has passed. Backwards, in fact. _

Suddenly recollecting her situation, Hermione forced her wails to subside. Shyly accepting the proffered treat, she lowered her head, desperately trying to come up with a way to convince Dumbledore to let her stay in the school.

"Headmaster, I…"

"Professor, my dear. The Headmaster of Hogwarts is Armando Dippet."

Cursing herself for her slip-up, Hermione was surprised to detect no hint of suspicion in his voice. If anything, he merely sounded even more amused.

"Yes, Professor. I was wondering if I could enroll here. This year, I mean."

The thin brows lifted at her blunt request. She had decided that a straight-forward approach would probably be most effective. By keeping her answers truthful, it would minimize the chances of her slipping up again and contradicting an earlier story. Besides, it was not like she had anything to hide.

_Well, except the fact that you haven't been born yet and you came back to stop one of his students from going bonkers and destroying the world. _

Right, except for that.

"Enroll? This is quite sudden and rather unexpected."

"I'm a transf…"

The easy lie was on the tip of her tongue but there was something about the way he was looking at her that stopped it. The obvious amusement in his eyes was too lively than was warranted by the situation. In fact, Hermione had the sneaky suspicion that this Dumbledore _knew_. And that he was just toying with her.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to just plunge right in. Best to get it over with as quick as possible.

"I'm from the future, sir. Well, that is to say, I will be attending Hogwarts about 50 years from now but I'm here because there's this really important thing I have to do…"

She said all of this very fast. Silence fell between the two of them as they stood there staring at each other. Hermione gave an audible sigh of relief when that twinkle stretched into a full-blown grin.

"Indeed? And judging from your previous comment, I become the Headmaster, you say?"

Of all the replies he could have made, this was not the one she had been expecting. The girl nodded slowly, unsure of what to make of this.

"Yes…"

"Well then, I suppose it's not a problem to get you settled in here. We'll just say that you've transferred from another school. After all, that is what you were planning to say, wasn't it, Miss Granger?"

"I…I…"

Her flushed blathering was met with another wide smile as the tall wizard turned to murmur to the stone gargoyle marking the entrance to the Headmaster's office. As the winding staircase appeared, Hermione followed behind him wordlessly. Something he had said was nagging at her.

"Excuse me, Professor?"

He paused at the threshold of the large office door.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"That's just it, sir. How did you know my name?"

"Hmm? You didn't tell me?"

She shook her head, eyes narrowing at the overly-innocent lilt in his voice. The man was infuriating.

"Then Hagrid must have told me. Miss Hermione Granger, isn't it?"

He knocked lightly on the door and pushed it open, gesturing for her to enter first. She stepped in, her head held high. The circular room was papered in a mossy green, the customary portraits of past headmasters snoring down at her from the walls. A small, thin man was seated on behind the long desk, sorting through various mounds of paper and odd contraptions.

"Headmaster, I'd like to introduce Miss Hermione Granger."

The frail old wizard blinked blearily at her, straightening the pointed navy hat on his balding head as he stood up.

"Eh, who's this, Albus? Granger, you say?"

"Yes, she's a transfer who plans on joining us for…," he slanted her a look, at which she nodded discreetly, "…her seventh year."

Dippet frowned.

"This is most irregular. Come closer, Miss Granger."

Hermione walked towards the desk, trying not to fidget as his crinkled eyes swept over her mussed-up appearance. His kindly smile took her off-guard though.

"Looks like you've had a rough trip, my dear. Don't worry now, we'll get you settled down in no time. Normally, I'd have had to question you about this…sudden request, but I presume Professor Dumbledore here has already done so since he decided it was worth it to bring you here."

To her relief, Dumbledore gave no indication to the otherwise. She nodded, giving him a tentative smile back. He seemed nice, if a bit too trusting.

"Seventh year…we have quite a few things to sort through then. How are your grades, my dear?"

"I've got 11 O.W.L.S: ten Outstandings and one Exceeds expectations in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Really, now? That's very impressive, Miss Granger! This really is most fortunate…well, before we get to that, I'm afraid I'm going to ask you to verify that. Just to make sure, you know how things are."

"Yes, of course, Headmaster."

He pointed his wand at her forehead, murmuring some unfamiliar words as his wand began to emit a white light. Lowering his arm, he smiled even warmer than before.

"Very impressive indeed, Miss Granger. In that case, I'm extremely happy to offer you the position of Head Girl at Hogwarts."

Hermione gasped. It was like Christmas in September!

"Head...Head Girl? But hasn't someone already been chosen? Over the summer, I mean?"

Dippet frowned again, his expression slightly confused.

"That is how it usually works, but for some reason it hasn't been done yet this year. I'm not quite sure how that happened…but in any case,since your marks surpass any of the others by far, it would not be out of procedure for me to offer you this post. Do say you'll consider it, my dear."

"Yes…yes, of course! I'm very honoured, Headmaster."

"Good, good. Fortunate how these things work out, eh Dumbledore? It wouldn't be seemly to have our Head Girl sorted along with the rest of the first-years so we'll get that done now."

Hermione sat on one of the spindly chairs in front of the desk, her mind whirling with the new development. She only absently acknowledged the Sorting Hat's announcement of 'Gryffindor' and the conversation between the two wizards.

"I'll introduce you to this year's Head Boy, Miss Granger. He'll be the one you'll share the Head Common Room with. You two get your own rooms; one of the many perks, you see. Charming young fellow and obviously, very clever like yourself. I'm sure you'll get along swimmingly."

She nodded absently. It did not really matter who the Head Boy was but Hermione was too busy thinking over the rapid development in her situation to be anything more than mildly interested.

"I believe our new Head Boy is out studying in the west courtyard."

"Really, now? Studying already even before the start of the school term? Young Mr Riddle certainly is hard-working."

"Would you likeme to fetch him, Dippet?"

"Yes, of course. If you would be so kind, Dumbledore?"

"Certainly."

Dumbledore flicked his wand lazily, no doubt performing some sort of simple, messenger spell. He then turned that memorable twinkle on her, indulgently taking in her glowing expression as she sat there staring at him in silence.

"You seem somewhat shell-shocked, my dear."

The teasing tone was merry but not unkind. Hermione flushed, diverting her gaze back down to her clasped hands. She probably looked like an infatuated schoolgirl! She shuddered at the thought.

"No, sir. I mean, I'm just a little um…nervous. You know, starting a new school and all…"

He twinkled at her again. She had forgotten how annoying it could be.

"Well, that's understandable Miss Granger. After all, this is a new _time _for you."

She glared at him, narrowing her eyes as he merely smiled crookedly at her from under a long brown beard. Hermione barely refrained herself from sticking out her tongue childishly when a crisp knock sounded and the heavy oak door opened.

She saw him.

Memories of the past year flitted in front of her eyes like some sort of sick, unstoppable film. Dumbledore's funeral. The ever-present starkness in Harry's green eyes. The Dark Mark over her parents' home. The lingering smell of her mother's apple pie as their still bodies slumped over the kitchen table. Ron jumping in front of her to block a wayward curse. The heavy thump of his body as it hit the ground. The salty taste of her tears as she shook him hysterically. Harry's body as it twisted in the air, suspended by yet another blinding green light. The grotesque inhuman face of the murderer who had soaked her world in blood.

Hermione retched. Falling to her hands and knees, she was only dimly aware of someone pulling back the hair from her face and murmuring quiet words of consolation as she threw up on the stone floor of the Headmaster's office. When there was nothing left to heave up, Hermione sat back, choking down the sobs of grief and loss as she wiped her mouth with the back of a shaky hand.

"Here."

A crisp white handkerchief appeared in front of her face. Following the hand that was holding it, she focused her eyes on the tall, dark-haired boy standing next to her.

The cause of her pain was now offering her his handkerchief for crying out loud.

Hermione's mind appreciated the irony.

"No."

Turning away from him, she offered up a small, sheepish smile at the face of Albus Dumbledore. The realization that she had just vomited very publicly and loudly in front of everyone was finally striking her and Hermione had to fight the urge to jump up and run out of the door in mortification. A set of twinkling blue eyes met her wide brown ones as the wizard gently released his hold on her hair.

"Now, now. No need to be embarrassed. Have a drink, my dear."

He conjured up a glass of water. Hermione gratefully gulped it down, washing away the acidic taste in her mouth as she watched him quickly erase the stains on the floor with a simple flick of his wand. The back of her mind noted that the rejected handkerchief had disappeared as well. Voldemort, no, _Tom Riddle_, was standing wordlessly in his place, regarding her apathetically.

She refused to look up at him.

"Tom, this is Miss Hermione Granger. She is our new Head Girl."

"Tom Riddle."

His voice betrayed only the slightest hint of surprise. He did not comment, however, on the sudden turn of events. Hermione scowled at the outstretched hand, loath to touch him. It was pale, with the long fingers she remembered.

"Sorry, don't want you catch my germs. Sick, you know."

She managed to keep the hostility in her voice to a minimum but was uncomfortably aware of the three pairs of eyes on her.

_Get a hold of yourself, Granger!_

The silence in the room was broken by a low cough. Dippet smiled at the two students, one glaring determinedly at the floor while the other steadily observed her as she did so.

"Well then, Tom, if you would be so kind as to show Miss Granger to her room. The rest of the students are coming back tomorrow so you'll want to rest up and get things in order before the Sorting Ceremony tomorrow night, Miss Granger."

She nodded, flashing a small smile at the two professors before obediently following the future Dark Lord out of the room.

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**A/N**: Now before you go and say it, I wanted to clarify that the little...discrepancy...(I won't mention what it is just in case someone didn't pick up on it) was _not_ a careless mistake...hm, so complex haha. 

Please do review - I enjoy reading what you guys think and it really helps me when coming up with ideas or ways to improve! As always, all responses to reviews will be posted on my profile page. Thank you!


	3. Understanding

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me...unfortunately 

I really shouldn't be writing - have a huge assignment due in on Monday but couldn't help myself. The next update shouldn't be coming until after Dec 21 (my last exam) so I hope you all enjoy this and thanks so much for all your enouragement and suggestions! Keeps me going...

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**Chapter 2**

Hermione followed the tall, imperious figure as it strode down the empty corridors. His strides were long and she had to hurry in order to keep up with him. The two travelled in silence for the entire journey, the thick atmosphere punctuated by the sharp sounds of their combined footsteps echoing through the musty air.

She glared at his back, currently absent of the requisite school robes. He was long-limbed and graceful, his movements exuding an air of confidence combined with an impenetrable aura of detachment. The candle-lit scones on the wall burnished the smooth waves of black hair with copper. He looked nothing like the nightmarish creature she had seen across the field. This Voldemort was startlingly attractive. Almost blatantly so.

_Well, they always said that evil takes the form of beauty. I suppose that makes it easier to seduce dim-witted people into worshipping it. _

"This is the entrance. The password is Sherbert Lemon."

Another one of Dumbledore's choices, no doubt. A snort of laughter escaped her before she could hold it back. The sound seemed to stop the boy, who had immediately turned to leave after his terse explanation. Sharp black eyes met hers briefly.

The effect was astounding. Hermione found herself staring back into inky pools frosted over with a veneer of ice. Suddenly, the description of 'hard eyes' took on an entirely new meaning for her. She felt like her head had been rammed into a wall and was being slowly crushed into pieces. It was almost as though her mind could not process the information to her lungs to get her to breathe. Her jaw clenched.

At the movement, his eyes narrowed imperceptibly and he walked away without another word.

Hermione stood there for a long moment after he had left, absently staring at the painting of a caged bird blocking the entrance to the Head dorms. The small golden bird chirped at her, fluttering futilely around in its small metal home. She had never liked keeping animals caged; that was why she had always insisted on letting Crookshanks wander about freely, despite Ron's incessant complaints. But now, looking at the little creature, she wondered if she had been wrong. True, the cage was a prison but if it kept things in, that also meant it kept things out. A tiny frown creased her brow. It was strange how something that appeared to constrain could also be a method of protection.

"Sherbert Lemon."

The painting swung open and Hermione stepped over the high threshold to enter a vast, dimly-lit common room. It was sumptuously decorated; the stone walls draped with swaths of gold and green velvet, the plush carpet and large, overstuffed sofas much the same. A crackling fire was dancing in the large fireplace between twin mahogany bookcases and she marveled at the wide central staircase that split to lead up to their separate bedchambers.

At that thought, a tiny frisson of fear crept into her mind. She would have to spend every night, most of her time really, sequestered in here with Voldemort. What was to stop him from Avada Kadavering her sorry ass whenever he felt like it? The rational part of her reminded her that it was highly unlikely for him to do that right under Dumbledore's nose but reality of the situation was finally sinking in and Hermione could not shake off the unfurling panic.

Her hurried footsteps were muffled as she ran up the stairs, pausing at the junction at the top before hazarding a turn to the left up towards a portrait of a young shepherd girl. Blinking uncertainly, she muttered her name and was relieved when the portrait opened to allow her to jump through. Sliding down the wall, she leaned her head against her knees, sucking in deep breaths while willing her body to calm down. Fortunately, there did not seem to be any food left in her system to heave up and it was merely a matter of time before Hermione was able to steady herself enough to take note of her surroundings.

Like the common room, her bed chamber was also lavishly upholstered in warm tones of crimson and muted gold. _Gryffindor colours_. The thought pleased her and she made her way over to the large, four-poster bed. Running her fingers over the heavy crimson cover, she noticed a neat bundle of clothes sitting on the wing chair next to the window. Several crisp pieces of parchment lay on top and Hermione read it curiously.

_Dear Miss Granger_

_In light of your specific circumstances, I took the liberty of arranging to supply you with the uniform and stationary requirements. Please check off the subjects you wish to attend on the accompanying note and the necessary textbooks will be made available to you. _

_Dinner will be sent to your room shortly. Have a good night and welcome again to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1943. _

_Yours faithfully, _

_A. Dumbledore_

Hermione chuckled at his teasing mention of the date and looked over the second sheet. It would probably be best if she spent as much time as possible with Voldemort. The idea unnerved her but that was her mission. Carefully picking the subjects she thought a Slytherin would most likely choose, she then gathered up the thoughtfully-provided set of pyjamas and wandered through a side-door in hopes of finding a bathroom.

The adrenaline that had been pulsing through her since the start of the battle was beginning to recede and her body ached from the various bruises and scrapes she had not managed to heal yet. Glancing briefly around the marble splendor that surpassed even the Prefect's washroom, Hermione turned on a number of different taps lining the edge of the clam-shaped bath and quickly stripped off her ragged robes. Lowering herself carefully into the steaming water, she sighed dreamily as the heady scent of roses filled the candle-lit room with smoky pink spirals.

Idly soaping off several days worth of grime, Hermione sifted through the images that had filled her head upon seeing Voldemort with a sense of trepidation. She had wanted to put it off for as long as possible - she really did _not _want to picture herself with Voldemort in any way, shape or form that did not include her standing over his dead body. Steeling herself, Hermione focused on the new memories.

_A tall black-haired boy was smiling down at her. She could hear herself laughing and although the light curve of his lips did not stretch any wider, Hermione knew that he was laughing along with her. _

_"Come on, Tom! Hurry up!"_

_She was tugging at his hand when she suddenly found herself swept up in a pair of strong arms and whirled around in the air. Brushing the long curls away from her face, the boy cupped her cheek, his hand cool and gentle. _

_"Hermione, I..."_

Blank.

Hermione blinked, startled. There did not seem to be anything more. Frowning, she searched deeper in her mind but the crowd of images seemed to be slipping away as rapidly as they had entered.

"No...what..."

Lifting herself out of the bath, she hastily wrapped a towel around her damp body and hurried back into her room. Hermione grabbed a quill and began scrawling down as many memories as she could. However, it soon became apparent that there was not much left to record. In fact, the only clear images she had were the brooch she had seen on Voldemort's cloak and the oddly evocative taste of cider in her mouth. Plopping into the chair, the girl scowled at nobody in particular. This was so frustrating! She needed those memories if she wanted to prepare herself for her time here!

Changing into her pyjamas, Hermione sat down on the cushioned ledge under the window, wondering at what had just happened. The promised dinner had arrived and she chewed pensively on a piece of chicken. It was possible that her return to the past had something to do it. Technically, time reversal was the same as rewinding what had happened so it made sense that old memories would be wiped clean in order to allow her to replace them with new ones.

_Wait...does this mean I'm going to forget my family and Harry and them?_

To her utmost relief however, all of those memories were intact. This revelation was intriguing; did it mean that there was no need for them to be replaced? That would indicate that her time in the past was limited.

_Thank goodness for that. At least I won't be stuck here forever. _

The night was clear and welcoming, a proud display of never-ending indigo dispersed with sparkling lights. The fanciful thought struck her that, fifty years later, she would be here once again, sharing the same sky with Harry and Ron; it was awe-inspiring yet gut-wrenchingly nostalgic at the same time. Those carefree days of naivety seemed like eons ago yet, according to the present, they had not even occurred. A small, self-deprecating smirk curved her lip; wandering down memory lane while cloaked in melancholy never did anyone any good. She had a mission. She needed to reconcile the current Tom Riddle with the Dark Lord of his future. She needed to get as much leverage on his personality and thoughts as possible.

"Well, I know you hate Harry. And Dumbledore. And the Ministry. Right, you pretty much hate everyone…well done."

Talking to herself was an old habit of hers, one that she had constantly been teased about by Ginny in particular. Hermione did not mind; it helped sort things out in her head.

"And you like…power. And torturing Muggles. Causing pain in general, I suppose."

She wondered why though. The Order had often discussed this topic, trying to discover some specific reason for Voldemort's actions that they might have been able to exploit. Unfortunately, the most they had been able to decisively figure out was that his hatred of Muggles was due to his father. Everything else had never amounted to more than speculation.

However, at least one little Voldemort fact was well-established: his ultimate goal was immortality. The crucial question was: why?

"_I've waited so long…I searched for you! Everywhere!"_

The hoarse cries he had thrown at her during the final battle, the situation that had started this whole ordeal, came rushing to the surface. He had loved her. So much so that when she had apparently 'left him,' he had cared enough to want her back.

The shaky bridge between these facts struck her like a wayward Bludger. He had wanted immortality…so he could continue his search for her indefinitely. She was the reason for his frantic delve into the Dark Arts. The reason for his undergoing such horrific, gruesome physical changes.

She was the reason he was willing to continue living a tormented half-existence.

Hermione shuddered involuntarily, tugging her robe around her more securely. The thought was disturbing, and in more ways than one. The mere suggestion that someone like Voldemort could ever love another living creature other than himself was shocking enough but the fact that it was her, plain old Hermione Granger who represented everything he was supposed to despise, was terrifying. What exactly had gone on between them? Had she encouraged him? And did this mean that everything that ever happened, that _would _ever happen, was her fault?

This was something she definitely needed to sleep on. Slipping off the ledge, she slowly trudged back to the beckoning comfort of the bed. Regardless, this little inner chat had just clarified her mission quite a bit. In fact, the whole thing was beginning to look frightfully simple. It all boiled down to one obvious conclusion.

She had to make him hate her.

--

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**A/N: **I hope you guys enjoyed that...I know there isn't much of Tom in it, but I want to build this up slowly and put everything into perspective with this chapter. BTW, if anyone here knows why and how to stop words from sticking together whenever I click on the 'save changes' button, please tell me - it's so annoying!

Also, all responses to reviews will be sent via that review response thing instead of on my profile page. That thing is awesome...


	4. Classes begin

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me

I've been totally immersed in anime lately so just to get myself back into the mood of writing Harry Potter, I watched all three HP DVDs today. Super sorry for such a slow update but I'll definately try to keep them fairly consistent from now on. Happy New Year's and happy reading!

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**Chapter 3**

"Now, can anyone explain to the class what a Demiguise is?"

Two hands shot up immediately from the front of the classroom.

"Ah, yes, Miss Granger?"

Hermione smirked in triumph, watching out of the corner of her eye as Tom Riddle slowly lowered his arm. It was only the second class of the day and she already knew that she had begun to steal his thunder. As usual, she had managed to answer every question correctly and the professors had seemed to take an interest in testing out the new Head Girl.

"Yes, sir. A Demiguise is an ape-like, herbivorous creature that can make itself invisible. It is native to the Far East and its hair can be woven into Invisibility Cloaks."

The short rotund Professor of Magical Creatures nodded, continuing to pace back and forth at the head of the classroom. Since it was only the first day of classes, they were doing some background material in class before heading outdoors for practical studies. Hermione thought it was unfortunate that Hagrid hadn't thought to do this for his first lesson.

"Well done, Miss Granger. It seems that our new Head Girl certainly is up to par. Ten points to Gryffindor."

Annoyed mutterings sounded from the Slytherins while the other Gryffindors shot her the thumbs-up and smiles from around the room.

_Take that, Voldermort! How's it feel to no longer be the cleverest student in the school?_

The lesson continued, Hermione jotting down notes that she had already learnt before. That was completely fine with her; it was interesting material and the fact that she had already taken seventh year before only made it easier for her to carry out her new plan.

She had spent a restless night tossing and turning in bed, her mind unwilling to allow her to relax. At first, she had not expected it to be hard to make someone hate her but all the initial ideas, such as physically assaulting him, seemed to carry more of a risk of him killing her. Not that she was afraid for her life; Hermione was fully aware of the chances of death should she succeed in making Voldemort hate her, it was just that she wanted to be sure of the ultimate success before she did die. So far, pissing him off by stealing his limelight and his seat as teachers' pet was the only decisive decision with which she had come up.

_Lovely, Hermione. And you're supposed to be brilliant. _

"We have a meeting with the Prefects after classes today."

"I…what?"

Her eyes met his briefly across the worn wooden desk. As Head Boy and Girl, they had to sit next to one another in the classes they shared. It was a required show of camaraderie between the different houses that was all part and parcel of the position. Hermione's eyes dropped away first. She inwardly cursed herself for the momentary lack of courage.

"We have a meeting with the Prefects after classes today."

"Fine."

Her terse answer was met with a cold silence. Hermione continued staring straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge his narrowed stare. It was uncomfortable being deliberately rude but she figured that that would be the best way to discourage any development of intimacy between them. Besides, the mere reminder that this was Voldemort made it that much simpler and that much more enjoyable to sneer at him at every chance she got.

The rest of the lesson continued without further ado. As the other students chattered their way to lunch, Hermione slowly packed up her books. It was nice being Head Girl again, particularly since that ensured that she would be at least somewhat informed of Voldemort's whereabouts at all times. But it was also a great disadvantage to be so isolated from the rest of the Gryffindors. It would have been nice to be able to share a room with the other girls and pretend, even if it was only once in a while, that things were not nearly as complicated or as bleak as they truly were. As it was, she would be left alone with her thoughts for most of the time.

Sighing, Hermione was in the process of heading out the door when she felt a light touch on her arm. She turned to see an oddly familiar freckled face smiling at her.

"Hi, Hermione Granger, right? I'm Allegra Weasley. I don't think we've met before."

"Weasley?"

"Oh, you've heard of my family? I've got two brothers who've already graduated from Hogwarts so I'm the youngest. The baby as the buggers keep on calling me."

The red-head made a face, her clear brown eyes dancing merrily as she let out an unlady-like snort. Hermione found herself laughing. When she thought about it, it was not surprising that she would meet one of Ron's great-relatives. After all, they were one of the oldest wizarding families and from what she could remember from past conversations, most, if not all of them, had been in Gryffindor.

"It's nice to meet you, Allegra. Honestly, I was a bit worried it would be hard to make friends here. Everyone already seems to have their little groups."

"Aw, it's not so bad. We're a tight-knit bunch; you'll find it plenty easy to make friends. We're all interested in this mysterious stranger who suddenly popped up and became Head Girl."

The two started walking down the busy corridor, slowly making their way towards the Great Hall. They emerged on to the open hallway, sunlight filtering through the stone archways as students gathered on the low walls or grassy courtyard to greet each other.

"I'm sure you'll fit right in. Everyone's already impressed with how clever you are."

Hermione grimaced, shifting the heavy book bag on her shoulder.

"Great. So I'm already being labeled as a know-it-all?"

She had always hated being called that. Draco Malfoy had never bypassed the chance to throw it at her whenever he wasn't calling her a mudblood. And even Ron and Seamus had sniggered it behind her back. Hermione really could not understand why it was such a grave sin to actually study for a change. This _was _a school, after all.

"Well, maybe by the Slytherins. A few of them were getting steamed about you showing up their Head Boy. But they're all a bunch of gits anyways so you don't have to pay them any attention. Besides, you're Head Girl. You're supposed to be smart."

The girl threw her a kind smile to which Hermione automatically responded. She was sweet. That very much reminded her of Ron, although he usually tried to hide it under a layer of gruffness and would always cough and blush fiercely whenever he was called on it. How she missed him.

"Thanks, Allegra. That means a lot to me."

They entered the Great Hall, which was already packed with hungry students. Hermione explained that she had to sit with the teachers and promised to meet up with the girl later. Pausing at the door as bodies pressed past her, her eyes were drawn to the tall, dark-haired boy sitting on the far left-side of the Head table. As if sensing her gaze, his head turned in her direction, placidly watching her as she made her way towards them. Hermione tried not to squirm under his inspection, stubbornly refusing to lower her eyes from his. That strange pressure was there again, pounding inside her head like a tangible force. She wondered if that was what everyone felt whenever they looked directly at Tom Riddle or if it was only her.

Their mutual staring contest only broke when she climbed the short steps and made her way to sit next to him. No words are spoken throughout dinner and Hermione triumphantly thinks that there is no other way she would have it.

**-o-O-o-**

"And lastly, this is Emily Kendrick and Gerald Whittleborne, our new Ravenclaw Prefects. I trust you will all get along well together this year."

Hermione nodded, settling down into the high-backed chair around the pastry-laden coffee table. Smoothing her long woolen skirt over her knees, she nibbled on a treacle tart. These old-fashioned uniforms were rather charming.

"Yes, of course Professor Merryworth."

The long-nosed Head of Hufflepuff smiled kindly, handing each of them a long scroll of parchment.

"These are your respective duties for the year. Naturally, you are expected to carry them out fully and in co-operation with one another. Miss Granger, I understand that you are new here but young Mr Riddle is well experienced in this area, having been Prefect for the past two years. I'm sure he will be more than willing to assist you with any questions you might have."

"Yes, Professor."

Hermione scoffed under her breath. He was such a smarmy suck-up. It was amazing that everyone in Slytherin seemed to kowtow to someone who would otherwise be seen as a nerd.

_What is it about him? Everyone used to tease me for acting exactly the way he acts. That is so unfair!_

Skimming through the list in her hand, Hermione frowned. Nightly rounds of the castle after hours. Monthly meetings with the Prefects. Planning of an annual ball.

"Excuse me, Professor. Am I supposed to do all of these with the Head Boy?"

She made no attempt to hide the disgust in her voice. The other students looked slightly confused while the Dark Lord in question did nothing but slant her an emotionless glance. The older witch blinked owlishly, strands of grey hair peeking out from under her lopsided pointed hat.

"Of course, for certain assignments you are expected to work alongside the Head Boy. Nightly rounds can be done separately but the meetings and ball planning ought to be done together. Is there something the matter, Miss Granger?"

"No, not at all. Just asking."

The issue was dropped and Hermione chatted amiably with the other students until the meeting was called to an end. Making her way out of the office, Hermione was stopped by a short cough.

"Granger."

"Riddle."

She did not bother to slow down her usual brisk stride. The boy fell easily into step beside her.

"If you have something to say, why don't you say it to my face?"

Hermione shrugged dismissively. He was somewhat more talkative than she would have expected although Voldemort's penchant for double-meanings and sarcasm seemed to be in full swing.

"I just think it would be a good idea if we do the rounds separately."

"Why?"

"Why not? Don't tell mea Slytherin wants to spend more time than necessary with a Gryffindor?"

She chanced a peek at him but he was not even looking at her. His pale face was facing directly forwards, his posture perfect and making her feel just the slightest bit disheveled.

_Great, now I'm comparing looks with Voldemort! Let's not even go there._

"I agree. It's settled then."

And before she could come up with the last word, he had swept off.

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**A/N: **I dunno why but this chapter feels a bit off compared to my other ones. I'll take a look at it again in a couple of days and re-edit it if necessary. Please do let me know how you feel about it and thanks again! 


	5. The gang

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me

Many apologies for the dreadfully slow update! I've finally finished my other multi-chapter fic so am going to plunk myself down and work hard on this one. Ill try to get as much of the next chapter done tonight so all that's left is editing. It's just that school is going to be crazy busy starting tomorrow so I'm not sure how much time I'll have to spend writing fan fics.

Anyways, please ENJOY!

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**Chapter 4**

"Hurry up, Hermione! I promised everyone you'd visit tonight."

The red-head tugged at her arm, eagerly pulling a laughing Hermione up the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room. The girl did everything with an irresistibly alive air.

Pausing briefly as Allegra stopped to chat with a couple of Ravenclaws she didn't recognize, Hermione flicked a non-existent speck of dust from her arm. It had already been a month and things were going smoothly.

Well, when she really thought about it, she was not entirely sure she was doing all the right things. She barely saw Riddle other than in class, during which they basically ignored each other unless forced by circumstances to be paired together for an assignment. Even then, they only spoke when necessary and in short, direct phrases usually consisting of 'I'll powder the asphodel' or 'I think we're finished.'

Outside of class, she practically had no contact with him at all except during meals. He would eat silently and leave to who knows where. He was never in the common room when she was and they did their rounds separately as agreed upon.

_Well, I suppose that means everything's going successfully. I mean, if we're never around each other, that means there's no chance of him ever falling in love with me. Maybe this will turn out to be easier than I expected. _

"Sorry about that, 'Mione. Nina was just telling me about the latest news…oh wait, I'll tell you when we get inside. That way I won't have to repeat myself to the rest of the girls."

Winking conspiratorially, Allegra bounded up the last flight of stairs before stopping in front of a portrait of a fat woman in faded pink dress robes.

"Oh, it's still the Fat Lady."

"Yeah, how'd you know that?"

Nearly wanting to throttle herself for her surprised comment, Hermione shrugged in an attempt to appear nonchalant.

"It's my job, of course. All Heads are supposed to know where the common rooms are."

Thankfully, that was true, although they didn't know the passwords.

"Anyways, the password's Jiggly thighs. And please don't ask me who made that one up. Every time one of the boys say it, they end up laughing like the bunch of immature thickheads they really are."

Laughing at the mock-indignant way her friend rolled her eyes, Hermione stepped through the portrait hole to the sound of loud chattering and the smell of freshly baked pastries.

"Wills probably smuggled some food up, the glutton. It's wild the way that boy eats like there's no tomorrow but he never gains a pound! That is just so unfair, isn't it?"

"Ugh, isn't that the truth?"

Both of them burst into laughter as they made their way through the darkened mini-foyer. A few of the students Hermione recognized gave her a shout and waved her over. Gesturing to Allegra that she'd be along in a few minutes, Hermione headed over to the cheery black girl munching at a muffin. Megs was one of the Gryffindor prefects and often acted as a mediator whenever the latent animosity between Riddle and herself got too tense.

"Glad to see you up here, Hermione. All set for the meeting tonight?"

"Sure. We're discussing the annual ball, right? Any early suggestions I should know about?"

Megs frowned, chewing thoughtfully.

"Well, we've always had a Valentine's Day ball but it's always seemed a bit sad for those who didn't have a special someone or other. Most of us just used it as an excuse to snog in public, really."

A wide grin was directed at her.

"So, I'm guessing the idea's getting a bit old by now?"

"Yeah. Dunno what other festivals we can celebrate cuz most people are gone for the Christmas holidays, though. Anyways, we'll talk tonight, right?"

"Sure. I'll see you then."

Leaving the girl to the comforts of pastries, Hermione took the opportunity to take a good look at the dormitory she had lived in for seven years of her life.

Not much had changed. Hermione slowly walked around the circular room, wistfully running her fingers over the various pieces of furniture in the way.

The same patterned crimson walls, the same huge stone fireplace and oriental rug. Even the ancient wrought-iron chandelier creaked as precariously as it always had. Smiling up at one particularly familiar portrait of a rosy-cheeked little boy snoozing in his mother's arms, Hermione leaned heavily against the back of the back of a stuffed wing-chair, sighing as she felt the tension of the past few weeks seeping out of her body like melted butter. Despite the opulence of the Head room, she infinitely preferred this comfortable messiness with all the memories it invoked.

_Not to mention the fact that there's no chance of running into Voldemort's sneering face here. _

A cheerful face popped up from her right.

"Over here, Hermione! I want to introduce you to some of the other seventh years."

Grinning, she made her way over to a group of armchairs huddled in a circle next to the window. All the seats were occupied, Hermione smiling back at the friendly faces directed at her with interest.

"Hermione, this is Monessa, Matilda and Mae."

"That's Mae with an 'e'."

The chirpy Irish drawl came from the tiny girl squeezed next to the brunette known as Matilda. She was adorable, with a pixie face and stick-straight flaxen hair that would have made Hermione green with envy not so long ago. The other girls smiled and waved in return.

"Nice to meet you, Hermione. We were wondering when we'd finally get to meet our new Gryffindor Head Girl."

A bit of wryness crept into her smile.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Things have just been so hectic lately. I've barely had enough time to sleep, let alone keep up with my schoolwork. You're Monessa, right?"

The blonde nodded, unselfconsciously perched on the knee of a buff similarly golden-haired boy Hermione recognized as being in her Arithmancy class.

"Everyone calls us the Three M's. Allegra was as pleased as punch when she found out your name started with an H."

A hearty round of laughter followed, the red-head in question chiming in good-naturedly. Accepting Matilda's waving gestures, Hermione sat herself down on the rounded arm of the nearest chair. Trying to adjust her robes as it got caught under her bum, the girl felt her foot slip on the stone flagstones, barely able to let out a surprised yelp before she found herself tilting sideways.

A lean arm shot out to wrap itself around her waist, pulling her body completely into the chair. Hermione blinked at the sudden change in surroundings, her mind dimly registering the warmth of someone's lap as her eyes travelled up a broad chest to rest on a grinning face hovering above hers.

"Hi there."

His voice was as pleasingly smooth as he was handsome. His dark hair was artfully messed up, a few strands falling mischievously over slate-grey eyes. They were crinkling down at her in amusement at the present moment, as the owner continued to hold her solidly against his chest.

Hermione was pressed close enough to literally feel his heart beating against the curve of her shoulder.

_He looks a bit like Harry, only a bit more carefree and open though. Well, actually, he looks more like Riddle, but a hundred times friendlier. _

The other girls giggled and nudged each other as Hermione sat up straighter, trying to politely extricate herself from his arms before her face spontaneously exploded from all the blood rushing to her cheeks. The last few years at Hogwarts had been so hectic what with the war and all that she had never had the chance to be this close to any male other than Harry and Ron. Even her short fling with Krum had been very innocent, given that they were only 15 at the time.

"He-Hello. I'm Hermione. Sorry, I'm a bit clumsy but I don't usually fall on people like that."

Her attempts to stand up proved rather fruitless considering all that happened was that the arm around her waist tightened gently before giving her a reassuring pat.

"Not at all. I wasn't complaining."

Hermione was sure it was impossible for her face to get any redder. Ducking her head out of sight, she tried very hard not to concentrate on the way he casually draped his free arm over her knees. Her flustered response seemed to amuse the boy even more, eliciting a low chuckle that brushed over the top of her head.

"Aww…stop teasing her, you git. She's never going back here, you know. Or worst, you're gonna give her a heart attack and then what'll we do?"

Allegra threw one of the scones sitting on the table at the boy in question, who easily caught it in his mouth amidst much cheering from the other guys.

"Alright, alright. No need to get violent here, Red. Besides, we all know you want to eat that rather than chuck it at me."

That earned him another biscuit in the face. Laughing, he proffered it to a bemused Hermione resignedly sitting in his lap.

"But I forgot to introduce myself first. Gideon Black at your service."

_Black? That's right, Sirius' family was also pureblood, like the Weasley's. Oh my gosh, he's related to Sirius! He could be Sirius' great grandfather or something. Wait till I tell Harry!_

"Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you."

Firmly shaking the large hand extended to her, Hermione smiled widely, her entire body unconsciously relaxing in the sense of extended familiarity. Apparently, the boy felt the change in her posture too. His eyebrows arched in surprise as he shot her a questioning look.

"Do we know each other, Granger? I'm sure I would have remembered…"

"No. But I'm glad we met."

It wasn't until a slight flush spread across his lightly tanned cheeks as the rest of the group erupted in loud cat calls and whistles that Hermione realized just how her excited comment actually sounded. Unable to look him in the eye again after that, Hermione scrambled to her feet, smoothing down her skirt and robes.

Urgh, this was so embarrassing.

One of the guys gave Gideon a hearty pat on the shoulder, winking up at Hermione as she tried not to fidget.

"Looks like you've got yourself a fit one, Black. He's our Quidditch captain, love. You're going to have to fight hard to keep the other girls away. Oh, and William's the name. I'm the Seeker."

Chuckling nervously, Hermione could see Gideon swat the slimmer boy's hand away, muttering something about minding his own business. He slanted her a self-deprecating smile that was meant to put her at ease.

And it worked.

Situating herself back on the armrest, carefully this time, Hermione focused on the chestnut-haired boy called Wills.

"So you're the famous William who managed to smuggle all this food up here?"

"Just Wills, love. Wills. And you give me too much credit."

She grinned.

"Fine, Wills then. Well, as Head Girl, you do know that I'm supposed to dock you house points for breaking the rules?"

The rascal was utterly unfazed, sending her another one of his cheeky winks.

"Ah, love. I do know that. But I also know that you wouldn't do it."

"Really, now? And how would you know that?"

He stuffed another crumpet in his mouth, taking the time to elbow Callum, the Arithmancy boy, in the stomach in retaliation for messing up his already messy hair.

"Cuz you're a Gryffindor, that's what. You wouldn't rat on us like that."

"You give me too much credit."

Grinning at his admiring guffaw, Hermione accepted a fresh scone from Gideon. He smiled up at her as the rest of the group started talking amongst themselves again.

"So, Granger. I never got to ask you why you're so glad that we met."

"And I never got to ask you what position you play on your Quidditch team."

His smile widened at her attempt to buy herself some time to compose an answer but obligingly went along with her.

"Beater. Got picked in my second year here and became captain in my fifth. Do you fly at all?"

"Not the slightest. My two best friends were complete Quidditch fanatics but I'm not exactly fond of heights. I'm Muggleborn so the idea of riding a stick in the air is still a bit daunting."

He shrugged, tugging the requisite gold and crimson tie loose.

"No more than waving a stick and making something fly. You just need some practice, Granger."

Hermione didn't bother arguing with him. Ron had tried every trick in the book to get her to climb on a broomstick again, but to no avail.

"So, have you managed to come up with an answer yet? Or do you want to change the subject again?"

She smirked down at his amused expression.

"Not at all. Although my answer probably isn't the ego-stroking one you were looking for. You just remind me of one of my friends so I was just excited to see a somewhat familiar face is all."

He pouted.

"And I thought you were going to fawn all over me like the rest of the girls. I _am _considered rather good-looking, you know."

"And modest apparently. I wouldn't have thought you would even want another fan girl piling at your door. It must be rather difficult to walk through the corridors every day."

Supplying her with another biscuit, Gideon twinkled up at her, his face comically innocent.

"I wouldn't have minded. I might even let you jump the line, Granger."

Laughing openly at his blatant flirtation, Hermione was struck by a sudden thought.

"Wait, you're part of the Black family, aren't you? I thought all the Blacks were in Slytherin."

A dull hush fell over the group. Hermione cursed inwardly, resisting the urge to slap herself upside the head. Once again she had let that blasted curiosity of hers run away with her mouth.

"I'm sorry, Gideon. I was being nosy."

He patted her on the knee, a soft smile on his face.

"Nah, it's alright. I know it is a bit odd. The thing is, I'm the first Black _not _to have sorted into Slytherin. My father literally threw a fit when he found out and now I'm considered sort of the black sheep of the family. It's not a big secret or anything."

Offering another apologetic gaze to him, Hermione affectionately patted the hand that was still resting lightly on her knee. He really was like Sirius.

"So, 'Mione. How's it like living with Hogwart's resident ice-prince?"

She blinked over at Mae, who was giggling like a schoolgirl. Allegra bounced eagerly on the armrest she was sitting on.

"Oh right! I completely forgot! 'Mione, you remember that piece of gossip Nina told me just before? Well, there's a rumour going around that the reason anyone hardly ever sees you in the evenings is because you're spending all your free time locked up in the Head room with the ice-prince!"

If she had expected a blushing gasp, the red-head was sorely disappointed. Hermione merely looked confused, although a horrified sinking feeling was currently making itself known in her stomach.

"Ice-prince?"

"Yeah, you know…Tom Riddle. Tall, dark and handsome but completely untouchable. He's just dreamy, isn't he?"

Hermione gagged, uncaring of the scandalized looks on the girls' faces.

"I can't believe you said that! Ugh, just the thought is disgusting."

The rest of the guys loudly agreed with her that they didn't see what was so amazing about the Head Slytherin, but a few sharp kicks from the girls quickly had them backing down and whimpering.

"What do you mean disgusting?"

This time, it was Matilda who leaned forward, her voice rising in utter bewilderment.

"He's gorgeous! And he's obviously brilliant too. Even though he can be a prick at times, that just seems to add to that whole 'mystery' thing. Nearly all the girls here at Hogwarts are wild over him! Everyone was so jealous when they found out that you would be the one sharing the Head dorm with him. Ooooh, you're so lucky, Hermione! I'd just die to be in your spot."

"It's not all that, believe me. Besides, it doesn't matter how good-looking he is; I can't stand the sight of him."

"Why? Did he do something to you?"

The hand squeezed her, prompting her to meet the mild concern in those stormy grey eyes.

_You mean, besides killing everyone I love? _

Hermione sighed, gently moving her leg away.

"No. I just…I just feel uncomfortable around him. I can't explain it. Luckily, I hardly ever see him so it's not a big deal. Let's just drop it, okay?"

The worried looks on all of their faces clearly said that they would much rather not, but they acquiesced. Lifting her head to gaze out the window, another sigh left her lips.

_I wonder if I said too much again. _

_-_

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, I know there isn't any Tom in this chapter. I originally hadn't intended this scene to be so long and was going to include the bit where Hermione gets into a row with Tom over the annual ball issue. But this just sort of kept going and I felt like the ideas here needed to be included.

fit good-looking girl

Update coming in a week or two. More Tom x Hermione interaction in the next chapter, I promise. Please review and thanks for reading!


	6. Memories

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me

I almost dreaded putting up this chapter since I know I'm dreadfully late and probably have a great many readers who are upset with me right now. SORRY! I really am very sorry that I've been so lazy! I'd originally intended to put up a different chapter but then decided to stick this one in since it fits better chronologically.

Anyways, please do enjoy and once again, my sincerest apologies.

Warning: language

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* * *

Chapter 5

* * *

"_Harry, stop it!"_

_Her cries ricocheted around the shabby room, the rest of the occupants seemingly frozen stiff in shocked silence. _

_Hermione cringed as another chair crashed into the wall with a dull thud, the old wooden pieces splintering upon impact and ripping into the faded mustard wallpaper. The Boy-Who-Had-Lived-To-Lose-Everything stood heaving in the centre of the destroyed room, his flushed and sweaty face reflected in the multiple shards of what used to be a fireplace mirror scattered all over the worn grey carpet._

"_It's not fair…"_

_The hoarse whisper rang deafeningly loud in the tensely charged atmosphere. Blood dripped from jagged cuts on his clenched fists where more glass had sliced through earlier that night. She could almost imagine hearing the sound of it hitting the floor, a blatant reminder of just how fragile and laughable a shield human flesh really was. _

_Drip. Drip. Drip. _

_Harry lifted his head wearily, those warm green eyes Hermione loved so much shadowed by both physical and mental exhaustion. He had lost too much weight lately, pouring over battle plans with Kingsley late into the night and returning from yet another gruelling Horcrux search empty-handed and desperate. _

"_You have to stop blaming yourself, Harry."_

_Hermione took a tentative step towards him, ignoring Ron's light warning brush against her elbow. _

_She wanted nothing more than to run over to him, to throw her arms around his neck and shed the tears he could not. The old Hermione would have done so easily and without hesitation but the new Hermione did not. Because the new Harry no longer accepted it. No longer allowed himself to relax or to show weakness of any sort. Weakness that could be exploited by the enemies, weakness that involved any possible thought that maybe he just wanted to give up. _

_One of her best friends was dying inside and Hermione had no way to help. _

"_Why?"_

_His eyes focused on hers, ripping a hole in her heart with the infinite wealth of despair in them before the impenetrable shutters of late snapped shut as if to protect her from his thoughts. The explosive rage that had gripped him ever since Lupin had choked out the latest report was finally gone, slipping instead into that hauntingly visible, mind-numbing pain with which they were all too familiar. _

_So much pain. _

"_Tonks…Tonks' death isn't your fault. It's Voldemort's. No one else's…"_

"_Voldemort!"_

_An uncontrollable, hysterical laugh filled the air and everyone jumped, frantically looking around for its source until they realized that it was coming from the tall, lean frame of the boy standing alone in the centre. _

_Hermione took another step, gripping her wand tightly as her brow furrowed in consternation. _

"_Harry?"_

"_You all blame Voldemort! Voldemort this; Voldemort that! But all you're really doing is tip-toeing around the fact that it's all because I'm not strong enough! That Harry-fucking-Potter is a bloody failure at being a hero and that's why good people are dying left and right while he's running around the country looking for who knows what piece of rubbish is carrying Voldemort's rotten soul!"_

_Ron let out something similar to an anguished moan, his orange head shaking vehemently as he strode towards the boy who was literally vibrating in anger. This time, it was McGonagall who stopped him with a bony hand on his shoulder. _

"_He needs to get it out. Let him."_

_Harry continued to rant as though he couldn't see them. _

"_Well, you know what I think? Maybe a piece of him is in me! Yeah, how'd you like that now? Bloody Potter shares a fucked up mind connection with Voldemort already so why not a piece of his soul? That'll be ironic, wouldn't it? Hidden all this time up here in this little souvenir he gave me…"_

_At that, he began to claw at the distinctive scar on his head, fingernails digging in deep enough to leave angry red gashes. _

_Hermione screamed, launching herself forwards to knock his hand away from his head, sobbing wildly as a jumble of words spilled from her mouth. _

"_Please, Harry! Stop this…please, stop…"_

_Large hands were forcefully pushing her away but she clung on, sight obstructed by both her tears and her tangle of matted curls. _

_Hermione could hear Ron yelling in the background, the sound of others rushing forwards to grab hold of both her and the boy in her arms, yanking at her until she couldn't move. Something kept making a strange tapping sound but all she could focus on was the memory of Harry ripping into his own skin, the old blood from his hand smearing into the fresh trickles oozing over his forehead._

"_No, stop!"_

_Tap, tap, tap._

"_Harry..."_

"Harry!"

Hermione jerked upwards, panting desperately as she stared unseeingly into the heavy, mahogany dresser in front of her bed. Her wide-eyed reflected stared back at her. Dim streams of sunlight shone a path into the curtained room, the early morning air chilling her sweat-soaked body back to reality.

"Just a dream…"

Her voice was raspy with sleep, the relief evident in the quiet. Pressing a shaky hand to her head, she closed her eyes briefly, willing her heart to slow down.

_Tap, tap, tap_.

That irritatingly repetitive sound penetrated the daze that still seemed to carry remnants of the scene playing out in her head. Extricating herself from the tangled crimson sheets, the girl swung her legs over the side of the bed, toes curling until she located her slippers. Shivering, she wrapped herself in a robe and padded over to the window where the sound seemed to be coming from.

Pulling back the heavy velvet curtains, Hermione blinked at the sight of a large barn owl hovering outside. Fumbling open the latched upper window, she let the bird in, stroking its rough feathers absently as it alighted on the cushioned ledge.

"You're awfully early this morning."

In reply, it stuck out its leg, hooting softly as she removed the attached scrap of parchment.

_Hermione,_

_The boys are going to practice this morning. First of the season so you've got to come! _

_Meet you down at the Quidditch pitch at 6:30._

_Love,_

_Allegra._

"Ugh, more Quidditch."

Shaking her head in amused resignation, Hermione quickly jotted down her agreement. Tying her response back around the owl's leg, she shook her head again as it looked up at her expectantly.

"Sorry, you caught me a bit unawares just now. I promise I'll feed you something if you come see me at breakfast later. Will you still take this to Allegra for me?"

Ruffling its wings appraisingly, the owl hooted once before sailing out of the room. Hoping that meant yes, she dragged herself off into the bathroom.

**-o-O-o-**

"Oi, Granger! Here to cheer for me, love?"

Shielding her eyes from the somewhat obscured sun, Hermione looked up to see Will's grinning face as he circled above her on his broom.

"Good morning to you too, Wills. That depends on if I see anything worth it for me to cheer about."

"Awww, you wound me! But fear not, my fair lady. Your handsome knight is more than capable of making you swoon today!"

They laughed easily together, the smell of fresh grass damp with dew hanging in the air.

"Here, Hermione! Over here!"

A pale arm waved in the air. Promising to cheer loudly for him at least once, Hermione made her way up the stairs until she reached the Gryffindor stands where the girls were huddled. Sitting herself down between Allegra and Monessa, she greeted the rest of them.

"Good morning. Do you guys always watch them during trainings?"

"Nah, usually just for the first session, or when there's something exciting going on. Here, have a drink; it'll warm you up."

Gratefully accepting a steaming mug of hot cocoa, Hermione squinted up at the players several feet higher in the air. The sun shone off their gold and crimson uniforms as they flitted around, obviously practicing some sort of game formation.

"So who's who? I saw Wills as I was coming up here but that's about it."

"Well, there's my Callum, he's one of the Beaters. The other's Gideon, of course; he's the one yelling right now. Constance plays Keeper; she's lovely, you've got to meet her later. I heard she got together with Ian Nickelsmot over the summer."

Gossiping excitedly, the girls huddled together closer, occasionally clapping whenever one or other of the players made a particularly impressive move. They screamed when Wills shot down directly towards them, pulling out of his dive right above their heads in an imitation of something Hermione could not, for her life, remember the name of.

She did, however, let out a burst of laughter despite the other girls' outraged admonishments, when he pouted exaggeratedly until she cheered for him as promised. The boy swooped down to muss up Mae's picture-perfect hair and inched just out of reach when she attempted to swat at him in mock indignation.

"Ah, so I see I did manage to impress my lady. Want to up the ante and offer me a kiss, love?"

"Stop flirting and start training, mate!"

The exasperated shout came from their right as the Quidditch captain flew in, his face flushed from the bite of the October air. The other boy shrugged knowingly.

"Don't like others moving in on your territory, eh? Understandable. Quite a catch you got there, mate. Makes a bloke envious, really."

Winking at a spluttering Hermione, Wills slapped Gideon on the back and spiralled away towards the opposite end of the field. The tall boy still hanging in mid-air in front of the stands grumbled something, running a hand through his windswept hair before flashing her a smile.

"Morning, Granger. How's it going?"

"G-good. Yourself?"

"Tired as…"

"'Course he's good! He's got a whole bunch of gorgeous girls dragging themselves out of bed to watch him right in the morning."

A slim, freckled arm hooked itself into Hermione's as Allegra bounced up to stand beside her.

"Sure you didn't hit your head on your way out here, Red? Don't see any gorgeous birds nearby."

His grin slipped a notch when the redhead gasped dramatically, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she turned to Hermione.

"Did you heard, 'Mione? Gideon's basically saying you're not good-looking!"

"What? No! I didn't…I meant you, you…"

Giggling at his flustered attempts to backtrack, Allegra pressed her advantage, pointedly ignoring the elbow Hermione planted none too gently in her side.

"Oh, so you mean you _do _think Hermione's gorgeous? Not that we didn't know it already but it's always nice to have someone proclaim to the world just how much they adore you."

"What? Gideon said he likes Hermione?"

The other girls clustered around, eagerly poking the two of them for more details on what they had missed.

"I can't believe you said it just like that, Gideon!"

"Oh, Laura Lumfy from Ravenclaw will be so disappointed!"

"Serves her right, the silly twit. Did you know I heard she said my feet were too big?"

"Matilda, he didn't say anything of the sort. And your feet aren't big at all."

"You ought to ask her to go with you to Hogsmeade, you know. Not just blurt it out before breakfast all of a sudden."

Gideon gaped, inadvertently leaning back from the avid group of girl chattering away in front of him.

"Uh, right. Got it. I'll um…see you all at breakfast then."

With that, he sped off, throwing a confused backwards glance over his shoulder which Hermione returned sympathetically. Ron and Harry had always skirted off in a similar manner whenever Lavender and Parvati grabbed her into one of their 'girl-talks.'

"Actually, speaking of breakfast, I'm getting a bit peckish. They should be finishing up soon; you guys want to head back to the school first?"

A chorus of agreement sounded and Hermione found herself being tugged in the direction of the school. It was all somewhat overwhelming. For her entire school life, she had spent most of her time with her boys and other than sharing the same dorm with the other girls, she rarely hung around with them much.

It was different but nice at the same time. She had sometimes wondered what it would feel like to have girl friends, although the often silly antics of her roommates had provided little incentive.

_Right, like Ron and Harry were so much more mature. _

The thought was accompanied by memories of their various escapades, usually involving Hermione berating them for getting into yet another rule-breaking scrap but resignedly thinking up some way to get them out of it all the same.

"_Again, Ronald? I can't believe it. How many times do I have to remind you that the Bufuddlement Draught uses scurvy-grass, not sopohorous. All that would do is put the drinker to sleep."_

"_Put that down, you two! Professor Moody's going to throw a fit when he gets back. And no, I'm not going to cover for you again."_

"_Please, Harry…stop, please…"_

Shaking her head violently, Hermione sucked in a deep breath, the nightmarish scenes from before threatening to overwhelm her again.

_Please, make it stop. _

"Hermione? You alright?"

The other girls had stopped to peer at her in concern. Forcing a watery smile to the surface, she nodded briskly.

"I'm fine, thanks. Just a sudden headache."

"Are you sure? You're awfully pale."

"Nothing some pancakes can't fix. I'm starving."

They looked at each other but had no choice but to follow after her as she swept on towards the looming doors of the Great Hall.

"Maybe you caught a cold. I told them that you probably wouldn't want to come down here so early but Gideon kept insisting that we should get you more involved. That git; he'll be sorry if you really are sick because of him."

"It really was sweet how he kept wanting you to make sure to ask Hermione though, wasn't it Leggy?"

The talk turned to musing about Black's possible crush on their new Head Girl. For once, Hermione was grateful for their fondness for gossip. Pulling open the doors, she turned back to face them, effectively hiding the relief at being able to escape from their curious eyes.

"Sorry, but I'm going to have to head off to the head table. Catch you in Charms later?"

The girls protested.

"Can't you sit with us today? You don't look so well and I'm sure the boys will want to check up on you."

"No, it's alright. I don't want Riddle to go off complaining that I'm neglecting my duties. Don't worry about me; I'm fine, honestly."

Waving wanly, she made her way through the gradually filling tables as more and more bleary-eyed students filtered in behind her. To her dismay, the seat next to hers was already occupied, the impeccably groomed Head Boy stirring a cup of weak tea.

She really didn't have the energy to deal with this right now.

"Riddle."

"Granger."

Requisite greetings over and done with, Hermione plopped a fluffy pancake on her plate, slathering it with plenty of syrup. Chewing slowly, she stared out into the sea of talking students.

_Do they know? Do they have know what's in store for them in the future if this whole thing fails? Do they have any idea what it feels like to be forced to give up your childhood, to be forced to kill just to stay alive?_

A loud clatter broke her out of her reverie.

"Damn!"

Hurriedly blotting at the orange juice spilling over the table, Hermione wondered what the hell had happened.

"Five points from Gryffindor for language, Granger."

Jerking around to glare at the placid boy indifferently buttering a muffin next to her, she scowled angrily.

"Fine, whatever! Leave me alone."

"I was."

"Pardon?"

Tom barely spared her a sideways glance. His icy gaze was fixed wandering over the Hall, visually checking for signs of misbehaviour.

_Insufferable swot._

"I was leaving you alone. Your hand was shaking."

Her hands clenched reflexively on the napkin she was holding. The heavy pounding in her head became a thumping roar as the memories inside crowded together behind the barrier she had set up, screaming to be let out. Hermione swallowed hard, that familiar sensation of gut-wrenching hopelessness borne of frustration clouding her vision.

"You…"

Finally, he turned to look at her. Dark eyes took in the way she was hunched over the table, her long brown curls trailing heedlessly into the pool of syrup on her plate.

"Yes?"

It was the cold way he said it that set her off.

_You don't care. You don't know that it's all your fault. And even if you did, you still wouldn't care. In fact, you'd probably laugh. _

"Get away from me, you sick freak! Why don't you crawl back into whatever hole you came out of and just die?"

Jumping up from her seat violently enough that her chair scraped back with a screech and fell over, Hermione threw the scrunched up napkin in his face. It struck him with a wet splotch, the remnants of her drink smearing over that perfect face that was staring at her with narrowed eyes and tightly pursed lips.

He made no move towards her, simply removing the offending weapon from his lap and placing it back on the table in a single, graceful motion. His eyes never left hers as she took in the sudden silence that had befallen the entire room, all heads turned to watch them in horrified fascination.

"I…"

Choking as she rushed down the steps and out of the Great Hall, Hermione paid no attention to the shocked calls of 'Miss Granger' nor to the alarmed cries of her friends. Pushing past a couple of baffled fifth-year Hufflepuffs, she blindly ran down the corridor, lost between the future and the present.

-

* * *

**A/N: I felt that it would be a good idea to create more of a sense of this school environment first. I know there hasn't been much Tom lately and this ending actually turned out much more differently than I had expected. Certainly when I started writing this chapter this afternoon, I didn't mean for Hermione to make any sort of attack on Tom so early in the story but the words just kept pouring out so ... I'll try to run with it as best I can. **

**No set update date as of yet. My moot court is coming up on March 9 so I want to prepare for that but I'll try working on this fic on the weekend after it. Thanks so much for reading and please do review!**


	7. First retaliation

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me

I am SO SO sorry for the horrendously late update! It's horrible of me and I really do apologise. I'm just glad that exams are all over and it's the summer holidays now so hopefully updates will be more consistent from now on.

Just wanted to say a huge thank you to all of you for your patience and kindness. I am continually humbled by your support and how sweet you all are even when telling me to hurry up and post the next chapter. Thank you so much and hope you enjoy!

**-**

* * *

Chapter 6

* * *

Her footsteps clattered on the hard stone floor, robes billowing out behind her like a ever-present, hovering black cloud as she hurtled down the corridors in a blind daze. Students streamed past her, swivelling and sidestepping out of her way in surprise.

_I need to get away from here. _

Hermione could barely see where she was going through the haze threatening to blind her. Relying instead on memory, she turned a sharp left, fumbling along the wall until her hand reached the recognizable coolness of the library door handle. Jerking the door open, she slipped inside and hurried towards the far corner of the darkened chamber, not pausing to greet Madame Hartworth as the librarian glanced up.

Huddling in the corner of the stacks, she sucked in some deep breaths, filling her lungs with the comfortingly musty air of old books. The scent of centuries-old magic fizzled around her, the feeling soothing her frazzled nerves like nothing else. Hermione had lost count over the years of the number of times she had sought sanctuary in this same room, the endless rows of oversize books and worn stone walls as familiar as the back of her hand.

Said hand skimmed over the shelf she was leaning against, lovingly tracing out the gold-embossed titles on their spines. Pausing on a particularly hefty dull green book, she whispered the faded block words to herself.

"Beating the Bludgers – A study of Defensive Strategies in Quidditch by Kennilworthy Whisp."

It had been the one library book Ron had ever expressed any interest in, well, other than Flying with the Cannons. Hermione could still remember him flipping though the crisp pages by the fireplace, excitedly discussing the practicability of various techniques with Harry while trying to explain what they were talking about to Hermione as she curled up on the other end of the couch.

Pulling the book out, Hermione opened it to a random page.

"When attacked from behind, be sure to recognise the faint whizzing sound as the Bludger comes within 5 metres of the end of your broom. As they have a tendency of angling to the left after travelling for more than 20 metres, roll over slightly to the right in order to avoid it."

The rest of the words blurred into a mass of curly black ink and moving pictorial examples. Whimpering once, Hermione slammed the book shut, unable to bear the sound of his voice loudly reciting the words to her inside her head.

"Oh, Ron…Harry…"

She missed them so much. It was like an ache that would never go away, sitting there day after day in the same classrooms she had shared with her best friends. Only this time, she was all alone. And it hurt.

Pressing her face against the panelled arched window, Hermione closed her eyes, her shallow puffs of air misting up cool glass. Crying did not do anyone any good; she had learnt that lesson when the people around her had started falling like the withered leaves in autumn. They had all learnt that lesson, some faster than others.

But that didn't mean she couldn't imagine how good it felt to let it out sometimes.

"Miss Granger."

Lifting her head, Hermione turned to see a tall, stern-looking woman peering down at her from the end of the stacks. Her heavily wrinkled face held an expression of concern, the thick black folds of her unadorned robes sweeping lightly across the floor as she drew closer.

"Professor Merrythought."

Hastily wiping her face free of emotions, Hermione straightened as she met the warm violet eyes of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who also happened to be the Head of Gryffindor.

"Are you quite alright, Miss Granger?"

The mild question was as understated as always. The adults had murmured amongst themselves in confusion when their brilliant new Head Girl had exploded at the Head Boy during breakfast. Hermione was well-known for her quiet self-assurance in class; nothing had been suggested that there was anything of turmoil that would elicit such a display of temper.

"I'm fine, professor. Just a headache."

The older witch eyed her shrewdly for a minute, taking in the pale, set face and dark bags under her eyes. Eyes that were far too world-weary for someone her age. Hermione stared back determinedly, schooling her features into an inscrutable mask.

She had had plenty of practice.

"Very well. Take care to see Madame Giggili if you do not feel better. You should head off to class now, I believe."

Nodding, Hermione brushed past the woman, smoothly replacing the book in its place as she did so. The quiet voice spoke again before she turned the corner.

"The Headmaster would like to see you after classes today. You do know where it is, don't you? The password is _absit_ _omen_."

"'Let an omen be absent.'"

Hermione chuckled, the forced sound bitter and oddly loud in the surrounding quiet. She glanced back over her shoulder before leaving.

"How fitting."

Slowly making her way down the now empty corridors, the girl sighed. She had gotten herself into a rather sticky situation. Chucking things at the future Dark Lord and embarrassing him in front of the entire school had not exactly been part of her plan.

_Ah, well. It'll probably only make him hate me more. That's one good thing at least; so long as he doesn't end up killing me for it. _

Stopping in front of a heavy carved door, Hermione hesitated, throwing back her shoulders in resigned courage.

_Here goes nothing._

She strode into the classroom, the sound of her Charms professor's voice and general chatter of the students falling silent as she headed towards her desk and sat down. Murmuring a low apology to the stout elderly wizard, Hermione conjured up a roll of parchment and a quill, making a mental note to accio her book bag during the break. Unfortunately, she had not thought to return to her rooms to get it.

The hushed whispers started up around her, undoubtedly speculating about the temper tantrum Hermione had displayed a while ago. She ignored all of this, just like she ignored the inquisitive glances her friends shot her from her left and right.

The day passed in a blur, Hermione brushing off their concerned inquiries and keeping to herself during lunch. She figured that she would have to talk to them sooner or later, opting for later for the time being. They were persistent though, that particular Gryffindor trait exerting itself at the most inconvenient of times. But Hermione could be stubborn too, making vague, non-committal replies before slipping off into the crowd.

The hardest part was during the last class of the day. Since this was a N.E.W.T. level advanced course, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was sparsely filled with no more than twelve or fifteen students. Hermione could feel the icy burn of Tom Riddle's eyes as she took the table next to his, the Heads occupying their regular seats at the front of the classroom.

Completely ignoring him, she focused on taking down notes, well aware of the equally contemplative gaze of her Professor as she lectured non-stop on the similarities between Pogrebin and Dementors and how to distinguish these nasty little critters from regular stones before they managed to infuse you with hopelessness.

A sharp kick on the back of her chair sent her arm flying across the parchment, leaving behind a blotchy black scrawl of ink right over her neat writing. Whipping around to berate the offender sitting behind her, Hermione came face to face with a rather extraordinarily ugly fellow whose sole redeeming feature, his brilliant green eyes, matched the Slytherin tie hanging loosely around his neck exactly.

"What? Going to throw another tantrum, are we?"

The hissed jeer made Hermione want to slap the stupid accompanying leer right off his overbroad face. She really did not need this right now. Almost unknowingly, her right hand crept down towards the wand in her pocket.

"Is there a problem here?"

She looked up to see Professor Merrythought was standing over them, impatiently tapping her fingers on her arm. Hermione's lips thinned. It was tempting to dock the little prat some House points but from the way the other Slytherins were sneering at her, it appeared as though her breakfast antics already had them up in arms. And from experience, she knew that giving that bunch just one more reason for making her a prime target was the last thing she needed.

"No. No problem, professor"

Those violet eyes flittered between the blank expression on her face and the barely concealed smirk on the other's before their owner turned to walk back towards the front of the classroom.

"If that's the case, then class dismissed. Please remember that the assignment is a paper discussing, in detail, the four methods of countering a Pogrebin's attack and it is to be handed in on Monday."

The usual sighs and mutterings sounded as the students filed out of the classroom. Hefting her bag over her shoulder, Hermione was headed towards the door when the older witch motioned for her to wait.

"You do remember that you have an appointment to see the Headmaster, Ms. Granger? If you would wait just a second, I'm sure Mr. Riddle here would be happy to go with you."

Eyes flashing in shock, Hermione forced herself to take a deep breath before even attempting to speak. She could see the tall figure standing motionlessly out of the corner of her eye.

"That's really not necessary, professor. I know the way and I'm…"

"Mr. Riddle has been called too so the two of you might as well go together."

There was not much else to say after that. Nodding curtly, Hermione stalked out of the door, resisting the urge to slam the door in his face as Tom Riddle followed behind her.

Both were completely quiet as they made their way down the corridors. Many of the students had already scattered outside given it was the end of classes on a Friday. Several groups of fourth and fifth-years gave then disinterested looks, the girls usually giggling flirtatiously as they greeted the Head Boy. Tom's expression remained impassive, his only sign of acknowledgement a barely imperceptible nod.

_Stuck-up, arrogant prick_.

Satisfying herself by calling him any number of childish names in her head, Hermione's scowl deepened. She stubbornly struggled to keep pace with him as he strode on ahead of her as though she was not even there. Perversely though, he stepped back to allow her to step onto the spiralling stairs first.

Shooting him a derisive glance at that obviously sarcastic gesture of chivalry, she briskly went up and knocked on the panelled oak door.

"Come in."

Stepping into the cluttered circular room once again, Hermione stood stiffly in front of the wide desk as the Headmaster peered over his glasses at her. Tom was right beside her, his breathing so quiet that she could almost imagine he was a wax statute.

"Ah, Ms. Granger and Mr. Riddle. Thank you for coming so promptly. I trust you had an educating day today?"

Hermione's lips twitched. Somehow, that just seemed like something the elderly wizard would say, but it still sounded a bit silly. She didn't notice a pair of dark eyes flicker in her direction.

"Yes, sir."

"Good, good. Now then, I do believe we have a small matter to discuss."

Pausing as if hoping either one of them would broach the subject voluntarily, Dippet sighed into the ensuing silence.

"Ms. Granger, if you would like to explain what exactly happened during breakfast this morning, please?"

She knew this would happen. Blinking innocently, she adopted an expression of embarrassment.

"Yes, Headmaster. I think it was just a nervous breakdown caused by the stress of dealing with a new environment and having to handle all the Head Girl duties."

Hermione was well aware that someone like Riddle would not buy such a flimsy excuse but it appeared as though the kindly old man did. Dippet stroked his scraggly white beard, a tired smile giving him a grandfatherly look.

"Ah, that is understandable of course but really, we cannot have another such display in the future, Ms. Granger. Looks very bad for inter-house cooperation, you know."

"Yes, sir. I apologise for making a scene."

Riddle's eyebrow arched minutely. She knew that he would notice that she made no apology for her behaviour to him but to her surprise, he neither pointed that out nor demanded one right away.

"Very well, very well. I'm quite sure you'll settle in just fine soon enough. In fact, Ms. Granger, if you have any problems with your Head duties, I'm sure Mr. Riddle here would be happy to help you. Cooperation between the Heads themselves is one of the main reasons we place you in separate dorms."

"I'm sure he could, Headmaster. Although whether he would be happy to is another matter."

"Oh?"

The old man's expression was one of faint surprise. Clearly, it was rare for anyone to offer any sort of criticism on the Head Boy.

"Mr. Riddle? Is there something the matter?"

This time, Hermione did catch his measured gaze as he shot her a cold glare that she met evenly. It was more than past time for someone to kick him off his high horse. Moreover, stirring up some trouble for him could only aid in prejudicing him against her.

"Not at all, Headmaster. I have no idea what Granger is talking about. Maybe her delusions are caused by her inability to withstand not being adored by everyone she meets."

Her initial surprise at his sharp retort was swiftly replaced by an almost immediate flaring of temper. If the sick bastard thought he could best her at a war of words he had another thing coming.

"Actually, I think its Riddle here who's getting a bit mixed up in his head as usual. Certainly, _I'm _not the one who suffers from such pathetic delusions of grandeur."

"Well, if it isn't you, then I must say I have no idea who else it could be. After all, you're the only one here who acted like a crazy person in front of the whole school today."

"It takes one to know one, Riddle."

They stood glaring openly at each other, both faces wiped clean of any outward signs of aggression but eyes snapping dangerously. An uncomfortable cough sounded from the background.

"Ahem, well … since it doesn't seem as though there's anything specifically the matter, I'm sure the two of you will be able to sort things out yourselves. I must stress that it is highly unseemly for our Head Boy and Girl to be fighting so please do try to resolve all this as soon as possible. Now, if you'd like to take advantage of the lovely weather we've been having lately…"

Practically chewing on her own tongue, Hermione barely suppressed a sneer before excusing herself. Dippet looked somewhat uneasy but relieved when she departed without another word to the boy who was still standing there in the middle of the room, his eyes following her every movement.

Hurrying back to Head dorms, she chucked her book bag on a chair before flinging herself on the bed. Stifling a pent-up scream in her pillow, the girl lay there drifting in and out of consciousness for hours, the recent events of the day enough to render her completely and utterly exhausted.

Finally, it was the darkening of the room that had her raising her head wearily, scanning the room until her gaze fell on the clock perched on her nightstand.

"8:30? Oh great, I missed supper."

As if in whining complaint, her stomach growled at that exact moment. Sighing, Hermione pushed herself to an upright position, running an exasperated hand through the tangle of curls on her head.

"I suppose I could head on down to the kitchens and see if there's anything to eat…"

"No need, my dear."

The mirror next to her wardrobe spoke, her rumpled reflection looking back out at her.

"Some Gryffindors are at the entrance. I believe they are asking for you."

Groaning aloud, Hermione smiled at the mirror before peeking out from behind the portrait guarding her bedchamber.

_Not that I'm afraid of Riddle, mind you. I just don't have the energy to deal with him right now._

Seeing that the coast was clear, she scampered down the stairs. Pushing the door open, she was met with four very concerned faces. It was Allegra and the rest of the girls.

"'Mione! We've been so worried about you! Are you alright?"

"Ugh, you look like you've been run over by a herd of Graphorns. Luckily we managed to convince the others that you wouldn't want a hoard of guys stampeding all over your private rooms."

"Yes, I'm fine. Why don't you all come in; it's better than standing out there in the hallway."

Soon thereafter, they were sitting in a circle in the middle of her bed, the girls exclaiming over the lavish furnishings. Monessa placed a heaping plate on her lap, eyeing the other girl's haggard appearance carefully.

"We brought you some food, Hermione. Everyone was wondering where you'd gone to, especially when you didn't show up for supper."

"Yeah, Wills was clamouring to send the troops out to find you. Although by troops, I suppose he really meant himself since the silly git was going on and on about being some sort of knight-in-shining-armour destined to save his lady-in-distress. Honestly, he's been worse than ever lately, hasn't he? You've a bit of a bad influence on him, 'Mione!"

"Don't let's forget Gideon though. He looked like someone drowned his puppy every time someone entered the Great Hall but it wasn't you."

Merry laughter drifted up from the small group. Hermione welcomed it gratefully; the sense of normalcy, of acceptance, was like a balm to her soul, wiping clean the murky despair of the past twelve hours. Swallowing another mouthful of potato, she felt a gentle hand touch her arm.

"You want to talk about what happened, Hermione?"

Smiling wanly into the clear brown eyes focused on hers, she shook her head softly. The rest of the girls had quietened, their blatant attempts to cheer her up working better than they would have known.

"It's really nothing. I'm sorry I made you guys worry; just a bit of a nervous breakdown. I haven't really been feeling well all day and I guess all the stress of the past month or so just kept piling on until I lost it this morning."

That was true, in a sense. They were all silent for a minute before Mae reached up to tuck a wayward curl sticking up from Hermione's head back in place.

"Next time, you talk to us, okay? That's what friends do. After all, we wouldn't want to have to dig you back up after Riddle's fan club is finished with you."

Chuckles spread over them and Hermione suddenly found herself engulfed in a warm group hug. Laughing in return, she blinked back a hot rush of tears, thankful that in the midst of all this, she had been blessed with such an amazing group of friends.

"Right, although according to what you just told me, it'll probably be Wills doing the digging. So much for your moment of heroic glory."

Giggling, the girls launched right back into wondering whether said Gryffindor was better than a certain Quidditch captain. It wasn't until much much later after they had left and Hermione had finished up her rounds that she managed to collapse in bed and drag the covers over her, just as exhausted but perhaps slightly less drained than before.

Despite everything though, it was a long while before Hermione managed to fall into a restless sleep.

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**A/N: I had a bit of a writer's block halfway through this chapter. I really want to include more Tom but I also want to keep things developing realistically between the two of them. It's a struggle but hopefully it's not been too tedious so far. **

**Anyways, thank you for reading and please do review! Next update shouldn't be too long. (fingers crossed)**


	8. Hogsmeade

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me

AH HA! Finally managed to post a chapter that doesn't begin with me apologizing for being late again! But yeah, have been crazy busy trying to find a job these days and nothing other than retail and fast food seems to come up. BUT, it's also good in that it gives me way more time to write so please enjoy!

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**Chapter 7**

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Hermione shivered, stuffing her mittened hands in the deep pockets of her great overcoat. It was the end of October, the afternoon air crisp and nipping with the promise of winter right around the corner. The sky was a dull white, like a vast dome shrouding the sight of Hogsmeade from the prying eyes of the sun.

"Hurry up, girls! They're unveiling the newest Silver Arrow 430 and we want to beat the crowd!"

Rolling her eyes, Allegra hooked her arm through Hermione's, tugging her brilliant orange wool cap lower on her head.

"Go on ahead then, you gits! We'll catch up with you in a bit at the Three Broomsticks, okay?"

Nodding, the boys jogged off towards the end of the street, laughing and jostling each other the entire way.

"Is this the first time you've been to Hogsmeade, Hermione?"

Mae gestured absently, narrowly avoiding a group of Ravenclaws as they made their way down the village street gradually filling with chattering Hogwarts students. Hermione nodded, easily making the little white lie.

"I've read about it though, of course. Largest wizarding village in Britain. I've always wanted to visit here."

"Then we've got to show you around! The boys can wait."

Laughing as the girls enthusiastically dragged her into an already very crowded Honeydukes, Hermione paused near a shelf loaded with pyramids of gooey toffee and spinning Crystal Ores that changed colour. The cheerful aqua shop was very much as she remembered; in fact, from what she had seen, most of Hogsmeade looked like it would fifty years later. The village was just as charmingly quaint and old-fashioned, the very air humming with centuries-worth of magic.

Picking out a bagful of sugar-spun quills, she passed them over to Allegra, who was already standing in line with a large armful of various chocolates. It seemed as though the red-haired Weasley shared the same fondness for sweets as Ron.

"I'll wait for you guys outside, alright? I need some fresh air."

Waving back to them, Hermione slipped out the door, gingerly leaning back against the dusty store-front window. Students chattered excitedly as they passed her, a few familiar faces stopping to say hello to the Head Girl. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes.

Ever since that time in the Headmaster's office, the situation with Riddle had not changed much. There had been no more outbursts on her part and the Slytherin had made no mention of it since. Instead, whenever their paths happened to cross outside the classroom, such as when she finally decided that he wouldn't stop her from studying in the Head Common Room, he simply ignored her as before. However, there were times when Hermione had the odd sense that his cold glances disconcertingly speculative rather then dismissive. He never said anything other than the usual perfunctory greeting but the nagging feeling disturbed her just the same.

"What the…?"

Hermione opened her eyes curiously, looking around her with interest. A strangely intriguing scent wafted to her nose, beckoning her with its temptingly warm sweetness.

_I know that smell. _

Pushing herself off the glass, she took a few steps forward, trying to locate the source of the smell. The jangle of the store door opening had her turning around as the rest of the girls almost fell out of the store. Allegra handed her the striped bag of quills.

"Here, 'Mione. Took forever in there; we're actually pretty lucky to get out so fast."

"Thanks, I'll pay you back later. Actually, do you guys know what that smell is?"

"Hmm?"

The little group paused in the street, sniffing the air in surprise.

"Oh, that's coming from the Three Broomsticks. Mr. Arochoot's famous for his spiced cider – it's one of the best around."

"We might as well head on over; the boys should be finished with their little Quidditch orgy by now."

Hermione stopped dead, heedless of the high squeak Mae gave when she bumped into her.

"Cider? As in apple cider?"

"Yeah, of course. Why, you don't like it?"

"Ah…no, it's not that. Just reminded me of something."

_No wonder it smells familiar. _

Shaking her head and pasting on a bright smile, Hermione followed them down the road into the darkened shop. The boys were already there, packing together a couple of the small wooden tables near the window.

"Took you all long enough, ladies. So what did you get me?"

Stealthily swiping a bag from Matilda, Wills grinned in response to her exasperated poke in the shoulder as she plopped down next to him.

"Nothing, you cheeky bugger. You still owe me a fortune on Dungbombs, remember?"

"Hey, I used those to save you from being cornered by old Toggs the other time! But if you insist, I'll buy you a drink, love."

The two of them started up a mock argument about the value of that particular rescue. Squeezing herself into an empty seat, Hermione found herself smiling up at Gideon.

"So how'd you find your first trip to Hogsmeade, Granger?"

She shrugged, pulling off her scarf.

"It was fun. It's nice to get away from school, you know?"

"Yeah, you work too hard as it is."

Grinning as he gave her bag of quills a pointed look, the boy nonchalantly flipped Byron off when the stocky fellow waggled his eyebrows at the two of them suggestively. A plump old man made his way over to the crowded table, smiling pleasantly.

"So wha' kin I get everyone?"

A chorus of Butterbeers sounded from around the table.

"Oh, 'Mione, did you want to try that cider then?"

Blinking as the rest of them waited expectantly for her answer, Hermione fought down the urge to grimace.

"No, no thanks. I'll just stick to Butterbeer too, I think."

_Great, now you've ruined cider for me forever, Riddle._

As the owner shuffled off, the conversation launched into another topic rapidly gaining in interest among the older students.

"So 'Mione, is it true that we're going to have a Christmas ball during the break?"

Hermione nodded. She had actually been the one to come up with the suggestion after considering Megs' comments. The others had pretty much jumped on board, even the Slytherin prefects had put up their token resistance.

"Yeah, we decided at the last prefect meeting that we'll be changing the usual Valentine's Day ball to Christmas. We haven't got all the details sorted out yet but it should be on Christmas Eve."

Clinking his bottle with Hermione's, Wills let out a raucous shout, leaning across the table to chuck her under the chin playfully.

"Thank you for getting rid of that ridiculous farce of a party! You definitely deserve a reward so pucker up, love."

"Hey, mate! Stop bugging her for a kiss already!"

The chestnut-haired boy smirked over at Gideon, whom Hermione peered up at in mild amusement. He laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in somewhat uncomfortably. The girls giggled before Monessa finally took pity on the now flushed Quidditch captain.

"So are you and Tom in charge of planning it, Hermione?"

She nodded again, taking a long sip. That was one situation she hadn't been able to come up with a way to weasel out of without seeming like a complete nutcase. As it was, Hermione was already dreading all the extra time she would have to spend with the Dark lord.

"Hey, does that mean the two of you have to go together too?"

This time, it was Matilda who perched forward, emerald eyes sparkling in excitement. Starting, Hermione shook her head vehemently. Just the thought was triggering her hurl reflex.

"No! We just have to do the planning and set up together. Other than that, I don't have to do anything with him."

"I bet someone's glad to hear that."

Snickers ran around the table, Allegra in particular giving the boy sitting next to Hermione a rather obvious kick under the table. Glaring at her, Gideon glanced over at Hermione, the flush on his cheeks deepening. Laughing a bit in embarrassment, he rumpled her hair as he stood.

"Give us a minute, girls. Want to go over and chat with some guys from the Ravenclaw team."

He gestured to the far corner of the room where a bunch of Hogswart students were sprawled out. The other boys followed, slapping some other people they knew on the back along the way. Halfway there, he turned to grin back at them.

"Oh and Red, you might want to go easy on the ton of sweets you've got in your lap. Wouldn't want you to bust the seams on your dress robes now, would we?"

Sticking out her tongue, Allegra huffed before popping another Chocolate Frog in her mouth.

"He's just embarrassed that I called him on it, the big lump. Bust my seams…ha, that'll be the day!"

"Embarrassed? Nervous is more like it."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow.

"Nervous?"

Matilda giggled, her long hazel ringlets dancing about her face gleefully.

"Of course he is! I reckon all the guys are nervous about asking a girl out; it took Dan forever to just get the words out of his mouth. He kept stuttering so much I was actually worried he would spit on me!"

They all laughed at that. Even Hermione had known that the brawny Muggle-born had such a huge crush on the popular girl that he was often rendered speechless around her.

"But really, Gideon's probably extra nervous because you seem so grown-up. I mean, you're so worldly and composed, all the guys have a bit of a crush on our mysterious new Head Girl."

_That's because I _am_ older than you. And because I've seen so much…it's a miracle I haven't got worry lines already. _

Modestly waving off the girl's last remark, Hermione took another sip of Butterbeer, the thick, butterscotch sweetness as comfortingly memorable as warm socks in winter. Letting the others chatter away in excitement over the upcoming ball, she let her mind drift as she stared out the window.

_It almost seems too calm, too … simplistic. I must be missing something but what?_

"Hermione? Daydreaming again?"

A slight nudge in her side caught her by surprise. Gasping as her arm slipped off the edge of the table, Hermione just barely managed to catch the bottle in her hand from completely crashing on to the floor. To her horror however, the robes of the person sitting behind her was not so lucky; a dark stain was spreading across the dark fabric.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm a bit clumsy."

"Obviously."

The rolling sneer in his voice was so deliberately obvious, Hermione actually wondered for a moment if the owner of that flawlessly clipped accent had consciously spent time perfecting it. Straightening, the flash of white sent a familiar, sinking feeling into her stomach. Cringing inwardly, she lifted her eyes to meet the haughty pale blue stare she knew she would.

_Is there no end to the Malfoy line? No, make that the Malfoy curse._

Not surprisingly, his loosely tied silver-blond hair was impeccably groomed, pulled back to show off a chiselled face worthy of being compared to that of an angel. Except for the barely visible wet patch on his cloak, his black and white uniform was superbly tailored and crisp. All in all, he looked exactly like an even more physically faultless version of Draco.

_Why are all the evil ones unbelievably good-looking? There really is no justice in this world!_

Sighing, Hermione slowly withdrew the napkin she had intended to offer whomever it was she had accidentally spilled on. His gaze flickered down to catch the movement before rising again to fix on hers, scorn apparent in the curl of his lip and the sniff of his aristocratic nose.

The boy sitting next to him burped loudly at the silently glaring pair. The end of his rumpled grey scarf trailed into some left-over gravy on his plate, which Hermione noted with disgust that he simply sucked off like an animal. It was Barron, the same Slytherin who had kicked her chair that day after her breakdown in the Great Hall.

"Anything interesting, Malfoy?"

"Not at all. Our new, oh-so-talented Head Girl just tried to get my attention by pouring her drink all over me."

_Crueller and even more egotistical than Draco. I didn't think that was humanly possible._

Hermione bristled. Shoving her chair back until it bumped deliberately against his, she stood glaring down at him, a similar expression of distaste crossing her face.

"Well, if you mean trying to call attention to the fact that it's amazing how you manage to sit up straight considering how big-headed you are, then yes, I suppose I was."

Sneering openly now, the Malfoy pushed himself to his feet as well. To her dismay, he towered over her by nearly half a foot.

"Well, well, well, I finally get to meet the psychotic little Gryffindor who managed to somehow squirm her way into the Head Girl position. What did you do? Offer yourself to old Dippet in return? Although what he would find appealing is beyond me."

"How dare you?"

Eyes flashing, Hermione's fist tightened. The other Slytherins let out loud, appreciative guffaws.

"Hey, what's going on here?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see the boys hurrying over to form a solid wall next to her, hackles immediately up at the sight of one of their own apparently being threatened. As they approached, the rest of Malfoy's group stood as well, flanking him on either side.

"Hermione? You alright?"

Gideon shouldered his way in to her right, standing protectively in front of her but Hermione determinedly edged him aside.

"I'm fine. It takes more than a pathetic little mama's boy to get me down."

The Slytherin chuckled, the sound distinctly nasty.

"Really, now? I'd say it'd take much less to get you down _anywhere_."

"Fuck off, Malfoy!"

Angry shouts and taunts erupted from both sides. Patrons at nearby tables cautiously inched away, all the while watching them avidly.

The sudden feel of a wand digging into her side had Hermione snapping her mouth shut. Malfoy smirked as he gave her a sharp poke with the wand hidden in the folds of his cloak. He bent down until he was almost level with her ear, ignoring the heavy hand Gideon clamped on his shoulder.

"Getting a bit ahead of ourselves, aren't we, Mudblo…"

He was interrupted as another quiet, precise voice cut in from behind him.

"Abraxas."

She knew that voice.

Tom Riddle was watching the scene unfold impassively, swirling a half-empty glass of mulled wine in his hand. If Malfoy was an exhibit of perfection in white, then Riddle was the flip side in black. Hermione was disconcerted to find that those fathomless pools of inky black were fixed unwaveringly on hers. That head-pounding sense of suffocation was back again, as it always seemed to be whenever their gazes locked.

_Argh, does this happen to everyone or just me?_

The single word apparently conveyed enough meaning to Malfoy that he stiffened momentarily before he managed to erase the slight crease from his forehead. The wand in her side disappeared as he straightened. The boys shot each other confused glances as Tom stood and started walking out. Shrugging, the rest of the Slytherins followed suit, effectively dropping the rising argument without another thought.

En route to the door, he paused and slid Malfoy a sharp look.

"Let's go. Don't even bother with those people."

The endless black flickered briefly over her before he turned away and slid out the door. Sniffing, Abraxas Malfoy swept out after him wordlessly, not even pausing to make a parting comment.

Draping a strong arm over her shoulders, Gideon steered Hermione back into her seat. The girls crowded around her sympathetically while the rest of the customers settled down, mildly disappointed murmurs rising up around them.

"You sure you're alright there? What was all that about anyways?"

Nodding wearily, Hermione gratefully gulped down the rest of the Butterbeer Mae pressed on her.

"Something stupid. I spilled some Butterbeer on his robes by accident and things just sort of escalated from there, I guess. Sorry about that, you guys."

"Don't apologize! It's not your fault Malfoy likes to keep his wand up his arse."

Patting her arm affectionately, Allegra groaned as Wills started praising his own rescue skills.

"Is that supposed to cheer her up, Wills? Really, you've got a twisted sense of humour."

"Ah, but you love it, remember? And no need to get jealous, Weasley; plenty of me to go around."

Chuckling as she threw a napkin in his face, his face momentarily grew grim.

"But seriously, love, it's not a good idea to get involved with that lot. Dangerous bunch of buggers, they are, especially Dolohov."

Hermione's lips thinned. She recognized that name.

"Dolohov? Antonin Dolohov?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Damn cheat on the Quidditch field and has no sense of remorse whatsoever. You'd best steer clear of him and Malfoy too. He holds a grudge like no other."

Promising to heed his warning, Hermione's mind swirled with this new information. So Riddle had already gathered his future Death Eaters. That was one nagging concern she had not been able to determine how to handle. It was hardly possible for her to go around forbidding Riddle to make friends with certain people.

_Great. Here for two months and I've already messed up. _

A gentle nudge against her foot shook her out of her reverie. Gideon smiled at her from across the table, apparently mistaking her solemnness as about what just occurred.

"Don't worry about it, Granger. No harm done so don't give it another thought."

Smiling back at him in reassurance, Hermione took note of the conversation around her.

"That was weird though."

"Yeah it was, wasn't it, mate? Riddle usually doesn't interfere."

"What do you mean?"

Callum shrugged, resting his chin on Monessa's shoulder as she assumed her regular position perched on his knee.

"Just that it's not really his thing. He doesn't join in when the rest of them are taking the mickey but he doesn't stop them either. Reckon he thinks it's too much of a risk to his perfect little swot image."

The other guys snorted and turned the conversation to more interesting topics, namely, various strategies for the upcoming Gryffindor and Slytherin match. Hermione on the other hand, could not focus as one single thought kept circling in her head like a flashing beacon.

_If that's the case, then why did he stop Malfoy this time?_

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**A/N: Well, that turned o****ut way different from what I'd originally intended. This story is proving rather difficult to write but in any case, I'm having fun. Wills in particular is quickly becoming one of my favs - it's like he's this nagging little imp trying to get me to give him more air time. **

**But yeah, thanks for reading and please do review! I'll try to update every fortnight from now on...**


	9. Homesickness

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me

URGH, I can't _believe _how long it's been since I last updated! I have no excuse so all I can say is that I'm so so sorry to everyone and thank you so much for your patience and support! I really hope that you'll stick with me and please enjoy this chapter!

Yeps, this is just the re-posted version cuz of some editing probs.

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**Chapter 8**

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The sunlight glinted merrily off the towering Quidditch hoops located on either end of the vast stadium. Accompanied by the boisterous, non-stop chattering of hundreds of excited students, the entire atmosphere that blustery November afternoon was alive with grinning expectation.

"I can't believe we got such good seats this time! We're pretty much dead centre!"

Matilda bounced happily in her seat, waving enthusiastically at some girls from Ravenclaw in the tower to their left.

"Well, _I _can't believe we came out so early to get them! We'd better win today, I can tell you that much!"

"Don't worry; the boys have been practising like mad these past few weeks. Nobody wants to see Gryffindor lose to Slytherin, especially in the first game of the year."

Allegra stretched lithely, nudging Hermione in the process.

"You excited, Hermione?"

"Of course. Who wouldn't be?"

Wrapping her scarf more securely around her neck, Hermione could not help but laugh aloud as she surveyed the scene before her. It looked as though the every single student was there, the stands packed with solid blocks of the various house colours.

The excitement in the air was contagious, sparking that flame of youth inside her that Hermione thought had long since extinguished. Matilda shook her arm rather energetically from her right.

"Look, the game's starting!"

Headmaster Dippet was standing up in the tower directly across from theirs. His frail form looked almost as if he could be blown over the edge at any moment. Raising his arms for silence, he beamed as the noise quickly reduced to a simmering rumble.

"Thank you all for coming out this wonderful Saturday afternoon to join us for the opening match of this year's Quidditch House Cup! And now, it's my pleasure to bring out our two outstanding teams: Gryffindor and Slytherin!"

Fourteen blurs of colours shot into the air, eliciting numerous whoops and cheers. A tall figure in crimson and gold could be seen hovering in the centre of the field across from the captain of the Slytherin team. Some sixth-year Gryffindor girls seated in front of them clapped loudly, screaming 'Gideon!' at the top of their lungs.

Mae leaned over to wink at Hermione, lowering her voice to a stage whisper.

"Gid's fan club. Scary, huh?"

The two of them chuckled as the whistle sounded and the game began. Players whizzed around the field, the fierce thumps of wood hitting Bludgers and the bell clanging as points gradually amassed resounding amidst the thunderous shouts.

"Whohoo! Look at him go!"

Allegra jumped up, hollering and clapping her support as one lone figure high above the stands suddenly took a sharp turn and sped towards the lower spectator stands right beneath where they were sitting. The crowd of Hufflepuffs sucked in a collective gasp as Wills hurtled towards them in earnest, his body flattened against his broomstick as he looped around the players effortlessly.

"Wills, watch out!"

Hermione screamed as a Bludger zoomed head-on towards the familiar figure, completely caught up in the thrill of the moment despite herself. It was as if she was back in Hogwarts again, cheering on her boys as they revelled in their sport.

Amazingly enough, the Seeker seemed to hear her over the din of the crowd. His head turned in her direction slightly, just enough to apparently catch a glimpse of the oncoming danger. He visibly sped up, one arm outstretched to grab what was obviously the much-desired little flutter of gold.

A huge roar rose up from the stadium as his hand triumphantly closed in the air, drowning out the scattered boos from the opposing Slytherin house. Those cheers reached a deafening pitch when Wills led the still-following Bludger straight into Callum's bat.

"We won, 'Mione! We won!"

Laughing, the girls clung to each other, applauding wildly as the entire team landed on the grass in a back-slapping mess of robes. The sight of the seven Slytherin players alighting in a snarling, humiliated pack was the last thing Hermione saw before Allegra tugged her down the rickety flight of stairs, the throng of students around them already moving in the same direction.

"Celebration back in the common-room tonight! You've got to come, Hermione! No excuses this time!"

"Okay, okay."

Half-jogging and half-stumbling, the group laughed its way back to the castle.

**-o-O-o-**

"Alright, who's up for another drink?"

Raucous shouts of approval could be heard from around the entire Common Room in response to the vaguely drunken slur. Magically pulling out another stack of Butterbeers, the man of the hour tossed back one himself, heartily sprawling out on the already crowded sofa in front of the lit fireplace. Peftal, one of the more exuberant seventh-years, slapped Wills on the shoulder, clinking his bottle with his so hard that some of the golden-brown liquid sloshed on to the rug.

"You've got to tell us your secret, mate! You've kept it for six whole years; that's plenty enough!"

"Which one? How I get all this food, you greedy bugger, or how I became such an _amazingly _gifted Seeker?"

Wagging his eyebrows flirtatiously at an adorably blushing younger student sitting near him, the boy launched into a detailed and hilariously exaggerate story merging his two most admired talents together.

"He's quite the show-stealer, isn't he, Gid?"

Elbowing the relaxed Captain none-too-gently in the ribs, Constance threw a cushion playfully at Monessa, causing her to shriek and teeter on her perch atop Callum's lap. Hermione laughed as a mini-cushion fight ensued, artfully dodging the flying weapons as they were hurled haphazardly across the small circle of cushy chairs.

"Pretty good moves there, Granger. Sure you don't want to rethink that anti-Quidditch thing?"

"I'm pretty sure, I…"

"What do you mean, anti-Quidditch?"

By now, the faint Scottish drawl held a distinctly drunken edge to it. Draping an arm affectionately over Hermione's shoulders, Wills squeezed into the chair right beside her. He grinned cheekily at her, deftly replacing her empty bottle with a fresh one.

"You're not anti-Quidditch, are you love? I heard you out there, you know. Yelling for me, watching my back, screeching your support…"

Planting a quick kiss on her cheek, the boy teasingly nuzzled closer. Hermione swatted at him good-naturedly, knowing his character well enough by this time to not be offended or take him too seriously.

"I beg your pardon, I wasn't _screeching_. And if I remember correctly, I happened to save you from getting your head bashed in so I should think that you ought to be grateful."

"Can't you tell? I'm plenty grateful, love. Love, love, my love."

Pulling her into a loose hug, he flashed her a heartfelt smile. Hermione returned it with one of her own, her cheeks warm with gentle pleasure.

"Oi, oi!"

The exasperated tone was accompanied with a slightly raised eyebrow. Gideon flipped his wand at the chestnut-haired boy, effectively levitating the open bottle in the other boy's hand into his own.

"You're drunk, mate. Can't have you harassing the girls here, now can I?"

"Girls or one girl in particular?"

The group burst into laughter, with even Gideon joining in despite his reddened face. Mercifully for him, no one called him on his lack of response to the question. Clearing his throat, he leaned forwards with what Allegra called his 'captain-expression' on his face, but not before kicking Wills rather obviously in the leg.

"But seriously, this has got to be the best thing that could have happened. I know Baulmar and he's a nasty piece of work. Those Slytherins have been playing dirtier and dirtier ever since he became captain. We're lucky the game ended so quickly or else we would have been in a rough ride."

"Yeah, remember that little stint Peonie pulled last year? Peonie, my arse! That beast of a witch nearly broke my damn shoulder, I tell you!"

Sounds of agreement came from the rest of the Gryffindor team, each relating their own catalogue of near or real injuries sustained at the hands of the Slytherin team. Hermione listened quietly, sipping her drink as she leaned back into the chair. Wills' arm was still around her, comfortably serving as a neck rest even as he participated somewhat loudly in the conversation.

"_I can't believe he did that! Ruddy bast…!"_

"_Language, Ronald!"_

"_Yeah, well, you know what I mean! Got me right in the back too! Could've broken my spine and left me paralyzed!"_

"_Actually, Ron, that's probably what he was trying to do in the first place."_

"_You know what? I bet it was! I swear, the next time I see the little sod, I'm going to hex him so bad that his balls are going to jum…"_

"_Ronald!"_

Hermione blinked. The sight of the sleeping unicorn painting hanging on the wall was surprisingly blurry. Rubbing her eyes, she shifted in her seat. Her head was pounding all of a sudden, the contents of her stomach churning restlessly. She felt utterly exhausted.

"Hey, are you alright, 'Mione?"

Allegra carefully plucked the dangling bottle from her limp grasp. She peered at her friend's pale face in concern, gently brushing the hair from her face. Hermione managed a weak smile, sitting up straighter.

"I'm fine; it's nothing. Probably just tired from all the excitement today."

The arm around her shoulder tightened minutely as Wills turned to her. There was genuine worry in his eyes, oddly discernible and clear despite his intoxicated state.

"You're tired an awful lot, love. Maybe you should get it checked out."

She shook her head, extricating herself from his hold and standing. The room seemed terribly stifling for some reason, the endless chatter and general partying creating a dull ache in her chest. She could feel the rest of the group staring at her now.

"I'm really fine. It's just all the stress and everything; I've stretched myself too thin. I think I'll just go to bed early, okay?"

A round of nods and murmurs came in response. Hermione didn't realize just how tired she really was until Monessa stood as well, linking her arm through hers protectively.

"Why don't you stay here tonight, Hermione? You can bed with me, if you want. We just won the first game of the year; I'm sure Professor Merrythought won't mind."

Hermione smiled again, the expression feeling forced even to herself. What she really needed was to get out of there, away from all the noise and all the people.

"I'd love to, thank you. But I've still got to do my rounds first."

"Then I'll do them with you. Come on."

This time, it was Gideon who stood up. His hair gleamed in the soft lighting, dark and windblown. Hermione looked away.

"No, it's alright. I can do them by myself. I just…I just need some fresh air; it's a bit hot in here, isn't it? Don't worry; I'll be back in a bit."

Quickly moving away from them, she weaved her way through the crowded common-room and out the entrance. The moment the Fat Lady closed behind her, Hermione started running, grateful for the sting of cold air rushing past her.

_Why? Why?_

Her footsteps echoed through the empty corridor and became muffled as she hit grass. She didn't know how long or how far she ran until the huge wooden Quidditch stadium loomed over her, its shadow blocking out what little moonlight there was. Hermione collapsed against the side of the stadium, panting and gasping against the furious cramp in her side.

He looked so much like him. His brilliant Gryffindor robes streaming in the wind as he zipped past her on his broomstick. The carefree joy of flying marked every turn he made, his talent and love for the game cried out to her as she cheered for him from her earthbound position in the stands.

_Oh, Harry._

Huddling into a dejected little ball, Hermione remembered all those times he used to practice at night, with Ron occasionally pestering him to borrow his broom. A quiet chuckle made its way pass her lips.

"I'm pathetic, aren't I?'

"Yes."

She barely managed to suppress a startled scream. A tall figure stood in front of her, his robe billowing out around him like an ominous black cocoon. Hermione pushed herself to her feet, forcibly clamping down on the heavy breaths of air her lungs demanded that she provide.

"What do you want, Tom?"

His skin was marble-pale against the rest of him, making it seem as though his head was suspended in mid-darkness. His voice was silky smooth, as liquidly tenured as fine, old wine.

"You're outside after hours. I believe that's ten points from Gryffindor. And another ten since the Head Girl should know better."

She snorted, ignoring how unladylike it sounded.

"That's right, I'm Head Girl and if I remember correctly, that gives me the privilege of doing rounds late at night."

"But you're not doing rounds; you're just sitting there laughing. At nothing."

Hermione glared witheringly at him. He must take some sort of sick pleasure in making her feel like a fool.

"Well, I don't see you doing rounds either. You're just standing there chatting. At nothing."

Ah, it truly was immensely satisfying to be able to throw his words back in his face.

They stared at each other in silence for a long while, both faces carefully wiped free of any expression. The wind whipped around them, picking up speed and blowing the flags above them into a rustling frenzy. Hermione realized that this was the first time she had really spent any length of time alone with Tom Riddle. He wasn't nearly as visually frightening as Voldemort, but the latent sense of danger was already present.

_I need to get out of here. _

An absent swipe at the hair off her face provided the belated discovery that the tears she had unwittingly allowed to escape must have left a path streaking down her cheeks and that the moonlight clearly allowed him to see it. Angrily wiping her face clean, she glared defiantly at him, daring him to sneer at her momentary display of weakness.

Instead, he made no comment. His eyes had followed her movements but were now focused solidly on her own. They were completely shuttered. If she hadn't known better, Hermione might have thought him an empty statute gleaming in the light. But the fact was, she did know better. She could well imagine the utter disdain and contempt that was no doubt lurking behind those dark screens.

_I don't care. I don't care about anything anymore. _

Heavy clouds drifted across the sky to cover the moon, throwing them into darkness without warning. His inky hair melted into the shadows of his features, all merging into a solid black mass blocking her path.

_Death Eaters._

The old fear and hatred gushed up from deep within her in an unstoppable flood; it was nearly suffocating.

Hermione unconsciously tightened the grip on her wand, lifting it partially up before she realized what she was doing. Black eyes dropped to her hovering right hand, glittering strangely as he raised languidly them back up to her face.

"Do you mean to attack me?"

His voice was utterly calm, as if he found nothing unusual about the situation.

_Yes, I do. Let's just get it over with, right here and now. No more of this ridiculous charade. I could just blow you to pieces and be done with it. _

Hermione's sense of self-preservation screamed at her to stop aggravating him, to lower her wand before the bastard took it as an excuse to retaliate. Amazingly enough however, he had not raised his own yet. Just like the last time she had attacked him, he barely moved at all.

"No."

A dark eyebrow arched sardonically.

"Really? Then what are you doing?"

Hermione shook her head, her mass of curls dancing wildly around her face. She had no idea. All she knew was that she wanted him to stop staring at her like that. Like some kind of interesting bug whose sole reason for still being alive was that the master found its audacity in waving its feeble little pinchers rather amusing.

Her head was flipping killing her.

"I…I don't know. Just back off!"

"Why should I? I haven't done anything."

In fact, Tom Riddle took a step closer, his taller frame looming over hers deliberately. The scent of pine and male surrounded her, serving as yet another reminder of the potential danger she was in. Hermione's eyes darted to the left and right. There was no one around.

_Of course there's no one! It's midnight and you're alone on a deserted field with a pissed off Voldemort. Good one, Hermione!_

"I told you to back off! Don't you dare come any closer to me!"

Her arm lifted fully to point directly at the boy's chest. A mocking smirk finally curved the corner of those full lips, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Or what? You're going to hex me? Do you think you could ever hurt me…Hermione?"

Her name rolled off his tongue smoothly, the darkly intimate tone sending odd shivers down her spine. It was a calculated attempt to unsettle her and it worked. But the problem was that Hermione was not sure whether it was because of the way he said it, or because he _said it_.

"I'll do my damnest to try, _Tom_."

Her use of his name sent another shiver down her spine.

The heated feeling curling around inside her seemed to double, finally deciding to settle heavily in her stomach. Whatever her reactions were however, his seemed to be the same.

The boy frowned, his back stiffening automatically as he stared down at her pale face with a completely different expression. The deliberate emptiness was gone, replaced by an odd and unwelcome curiosity.

Once again, absolute silence encompassed the two of them in a tight cocoon. It was strange how the lack of external noise seemed to create an inner ringing that reverberated around the inside of her head and tried to squirm its way out of her eye sockets. If it wasn't for the rapid thumping of her heart and the shallow breaths she sucked in between her teeth, Hermione would have sworn she had gone deaf.

"Why?"

The word was harsh, almost pushed out unwillingly.

"What?"

He made no reply and Hermione figured he must have changed his mind about whatever it was he had intended to say.

The clouds passed as moonlight once again illuminated the pair. As if suddenly released from a Confundus charm, Hermione realized how ridiculous her overreaction had been and abruptly lowered her wand. Brushing off her robes, she made a show of fixing her hair, preparing to walk back into the school as quickly as possible.

"Why are you so against me?"

What a question!

She scoffed at the preposterous intimation that he cared. She knew he didn't. And he knew that she knew. The only reason he was asking was curiosity, plain and simple. She was an oddly-shaped puzzle that didn't, and wouldn't, fit into the perfectly laid-out plan of his life.

"Really, Riddle. You don't seem like the type who would care what others think. Isn't that the whole point of your 'I'm so cool, stay away from me' image? Don't tell me that's just an act?"

He answered quietly, almost to himself.

"Is that so? Funny, you barely know me. Anyhow, I will not stand for unprovoked dislike, _especially_ from someone like you."

_Mudblood Granger. _

It was as loud and clear as if he had said it. The tautly-drawn cord finally snapped.

Stalking right up to his cold face, she laughed hysterically, heedless of the way he stiffened in warning at her physical closeness.

"You're nothing but a hypocrite, you know? You and the rest of your pathetic little house can pretend all you want that your blood is somehow different than the rest of ours. That it's somehow better. But deep down, you _know_ it's all because you'll need some sort of excuse when you discover just how much you suck."

She leaned upwards, almost brushing against his chest as she whispered the next taunting words in his ear.

"But you know what the funniest part is? It's you, oh high and mighty Tom Riddle. You, of all people, you know perfectly well that you're no different from me."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

The deep sound of his voice rasping right beside her had Hermione jerking her head back. Frozen in place, she could only stare wide-eyed into the narrowed black ones mere inches from her own.

_Oh crap. Did I just tell him I know about his past? _

Frightened hardly did it justice. Scared shitless would have been a more fitting term, courtesy of Fred. Regardless, Hermione refused to back down or back away. The boys had often lamented this particular trait of hers, particularly in situations where her stubbornness put her in danger. Thankfully, split-second thinking put a much-needed filter between her whirling mind and her mouth.

Hermione physically bit down on the trembling stutter that threatened to blow her cover, the taste of blood dampening her tongue as she accidentally scraped the inside of her mouth.

"What I mean is that our blood is the same. You are no better or worse than me."

He made no reply, seeming to have gotten his sudden outburst of emotion under control again. Believing herself to have gotten the last word, Hermione stomped off, unable to resist hurling a parting shot over her shoulder at the dark figure watching her closely.

"You know, all that this delusional bigotry will earn you is a life of loneliness and pain. And _that _is more cursed than anything to do with blood because you do it to yourself."

And with that, Hermione walked away.

-

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**A/N: So, I wanted to make it so that Tom's reaction to Hermione is not so much like/dislike, but something _heavier_ that moves him past that indifference stage. Of course, I had to stick Wills in there cuz he's just too much of a lovable rascal...**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed that and I'll really try to get this updated more regularly. Thanks for reading and please do review - it keeps me motivated beyond what you can imagine!**


	10. Testing the waters

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me

I AM SO SO SORRY for this horribly late update!! This is the very last day of Christmas holidays and I finally managed to get this chapter uploaded. Thank you so much to everyone for your patience and encouragement - it really kept me going. Hope you enjoy this!

BTW, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone! Back to school tomorrow (waking up at 6 is inhumane...) and am NOT looking forward to it.

-

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**Chapter 9**

* * *

Hermione rubbed her eyes tiredly, the curling writing of the page in front of her swirling before her very eyes. She had been working for four straight hours since dinner this afternoon and her neck was just starting to complain from her hunched over position. The weak sunlight filtered in through the dusty windows and she stretched as she took a moment to glance outside.

It was a cloudy November Saturday, the seemingly constant drizzle of rain veiling everything in a fine mist. She could just barely see the lake from here, the grey waves churning in the wind.

Sighing, she turned back to her texts, finishing off the last couple of sentences of her Untransfiguration assignment. Carefully drying off the ink before rolling up her parchment, Hermione idly tapped the cracked leather cover of one of the books. It had been almost a week since that conversation with Riddle and once again, life had seemed to settle down into its usual rhythm. She saw nothing of him other than in class and at meals and by some force of sheer luck, had managed to avoid running into him whenever she was in the Head Common Room. She should have been thrilled that that particular little spat had left no apparent consequences but Hermione had that nagging feeling that it was anything but.

He was watching her.

Not obviously or surreptitiously. Not even literally, if that made even sense, since his eyes were rarely, if ever, actually on her. It was just a _feeling_ she had. To say that he was aware of her was not quite correct since someone of Riddle's personality was always aware of what was going on around him; it was more like some part of his attention was now focused on her. Whether it was when she was answering questions in class or eating next to him, something was telling her that he was watching.

And if there was anything Hermione had learnt during the war, it was to trust her instincts.

Shaking her head, the girl resolutely stood and gathered up all her things. By all accounts, she had played her hand well, even if confrontations with Voldemort were hardly on the top of her list of favourite things to do. Any attention he might accord her were more than likely due to suspicion or wariness, a far cry from anything even remotely associated with love and so she was satisfied.

"Hermione? We have a meeting at quarter to."

Bellium glanced over at Madame Hartworth, her hushed whisper obviously not carrying far enough to be heard by the librarian. Hermione nodded at the Ravenclaw prefect, shifting the books in her arms.

"Yes, I know. I just have to drop these off in my room first; I'll see you there."

Smiling at some other students as she left, Hermione strode through the relatively empty corridors, her footsteps brisk on the flagstone floors. Given the sorry state of the weather, she figured most of the students were in the Great Hall or their respective common rooms; it was nice to be able to walk through these hallways undisturbed.

Finally reaching the entrance to the Head Common Rooms, she murmured the password and stepped over the threshold. It was somewhat odd to be here in the middle of the day; she did not often come back unless it was to sleep, preferring instead to study at the library or hang out in Gryffindor Tower.

The fire grate was dark and unlit and an unwelcome cold wind was infiltrating the room from the open window above the central staircase. Grimacing, Hermione hurried up the stairs to shut it, cleaning up the wet carpet underneath with a wave of her wand.

"Who's silly enough to leave a window these days?"

Naturally, there was no answer but the silence that followed was unexpectedly eloquent. Hermione blinked and, almost dreading what she would see, turned slowly to her right. Tom Riddle was leaning quietly against the doorway to his bedchamber, his eyes watching her as she straightened.

"Riddle."

"Granger."

Instead of immediately turning to enter her own room as usual however, Hermione stood still, one hand still holding the latch of the window. The iron felt wet and cold against her skin, her grip on it tightening as she simultaneously relaxed her hold on her wand. If he was surprised that she did not retreat, he did not show it.

"Yes?"

"Nothing."

They stared at each other, neither moving. Oddly enough, no particular thoughts entered her head; Hermione merely looked at him in much the same manner that he was her. She did not want to be the first to speak; indeed, she was unsure as to what it was she _should_ say. Tom blinked slowly, deliberately, like one of those realistic Muggle baby dolls and at that moment, it seemed as though the spell had been broken.

"Meeting in five then."

Nodding impassively as he brushed past her, his robes barely touching hers as he headed down the stairs and out the portrait. Hermione released the window latch with a sharp indrawn breath, frowning momentarily before moving to dump her bag and books in her bedchamber. Following in his footsteps, she quickly made her way back down to the first floor where the meeting was held in one of the unused classrooms.

_What was that all about?_

She would have said she unnerved him, but that would not have been correct. In reality, Hermione was somewhat unsettled herself. Sitting down at an empty desk, she greeted the rest of the students, resisting the urge to look over at the tall figure seated several desks away from her with the two Slytherin prefects. Sweeping in exactly on the dot, Professor Merryworth conjured up some parchment and quills for everyone, not to mention a fair array of much appreciated tea and snacks.

"Since everyone appears to be here on time, let's begin, shall we? Mr. Riddle, if you please?"

Leaving his teacup untouched, the boy waved his wand at his parchment, which obediently began taking minutes as he started talking.

"Yes, Professor. As discussed at our last meeting, I believe we've come to the agreement that this year Hogwarts will be hosting a ball open to all students during the Christmas holidays rather than the usual February schedule, courtesy of our Head Girl."

Here, he paused as Rufus and Ian let out approving whoops around their respective mouthfuls of biscuits. Crumbs sprayed out of Rufus' mouth in particular and Megs gave him a hearty kick of disgust under the table.

"Keep your mouth shut, Ruf, or at least aim it in another direction!"

"Sorw-fee."

"The issues that need to be dealt with today are the details surrounding the ball and anything else that needs to be brought up about your houses."

His voice was precise and quiet, easily cutting through any side conversations without the need to raise his voice. In that respect, Hermione thought he was much like Snape. She sniggered into her cup.

_Why am I not surprised. Slytherin indeed._

At the sound, one of the Slytherin prefects spared her a contemptuous glance, obviously having decided long ago that a Muggleborn, Head Girl or not, was barely worth the effort of recognition. Turning a pair of disconcerting pale eyes on Riddle, she gestured lethargically.

"If I may, Tom?"

He inclined his head marginally.

"Peonie?"

"Why not have it outdoors? I should hardly think there are many of us who would want to be crammed into a fully decorated Great Hall with a bunch of…well, we all know what I'm talking about. And during the holidays, no less. I'm sure I'm not the only one who needs a break from it all."

Her drawl was deceptively mild but everyone there knew what she was hinting at. The word 'mudblood' did not even need to be said; future generations of pureblooded Slytherins could have learnt a thing or two from her about effective subtlety. Hermione could feel Emily, the Hufflepuff prefect, stiffen next to her. She turned to the now smirking girl, whose eyes were avidly taking in the reaction to her words with an almost repulsive pleasure.

"Actually, I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what you mean. Maybe you'd like to clarify?"

Peonie's attention moved to Hermione, who had a bland smile plastered on her face. They both knew that she dare not take this any further with a professor sitting right there and whose lips were already thinned in repressed anger. The girl was no fool.

"Oh, I meant people, of course. I'm a bit claustrophobic, you see. Why, what else did you think I was talking about?"

"Claustrophobia? Yes, I've read that that seems to be abnormally prevalent in interbreeded mice that spend most of their lives coped up in dark dungeons, oh, I mean, cages."

Choked snorts of laughter erupted around the room. The girl pushed to her feet, her dark hair swinging about her angrily.

"How dare…"

"Perhaps having it outdoors wouldn't be such a bad idea."

Once again, the cold voice cut through sharply. Peonie tensed, her jaw gritting before she sat right back down, wordlessly acquiescing to his command without further argument.

Hermione found that fact less than amusing.

"Actually, it would be. Outdoors at night in minus twenty degrees is rather ridiculous."

"What's ridiculous is the suggestion that a castle full of wizards and witches is unable to control the temperature for a simple dance."

Her eyes narrowed as he turned his head to fully face her.

"If that's the case, then what's the point of having it outdoors in the first place? We might as well have it indoors if you're looking for a climate-controlled environment."

"You're forgetting the fact that part of the argument was not having the whole school squashed into a single space. As we've already established, there are those who would prefer not to be in that situation."

"You're also forgetting the fact that we all fit perfectly fine in the Great Hall during meals even with all those tables there. Not to mention that the risks of holding a ball outdoors requires a great deal of regulations and supervision in order to prevent _certain_ students from wandering off the premises."

Emily raised her hand hesitatingly, clearly unwilling to get involved in the Heads' little dispute.

"Umm, why don't we just get the Great Hall conjured to look like the outdoors on the walls as well as the ceiling? I agree with Hermione that it would be unnecessarily difficult to coordinate a ball outdoors. Students can always just head off around the castle if it gets too crowded."

Professor Merryworth nodded in approval, wisely ignoring the disdainful sniff coming from the Slytherin corner and looking inquiringly at both Heads as they glared at each other.

"That seems to be a reasonable suggestion. Miss Granger?"

"Fine. As long as Riddlehere doesn't have any further objections."

To her surprise, he shrugged lightly, an expression of complete complacency settling on his face. Although he addressed the older witch, those pools of black continued to remain fixed on her face.

"Not at all."

The rest of the meeting continued in a similar fashion, with Tom seeming to raise frustratingly rational objections to every single one of her ideas but then yielding at the last moment. In retaliation, Hermione did the exact same thing, smirking whenever she triumphed. The rest of the committee watched with a sort of morbid fascination, like one does when two barrelling trains are about to collide but it would hardly be practical to jump in and try to prevent it. The Head of Hufflepuff herself looked a little taken aback but refrained from interjecting since their exchanges always ended just short of outright yelling. It wasn't until Hermione finally caught the oddly appraising look that fleeted across his face that the real issue at stake sank in.

He was testing her.

Hermione had nothing near as fiery a temper as Ron but neither was she as calm and collected as she might have hoped. On more than one occasion had her impatience and exasperation led her to blow up and resulted in either the three of them scrambling to fix it or retreating and reorganizing as soon as possible. Voldemort himself had benefited from Harry Potter's friends' tendencies to react impulsively and it appeared as though Riddle had the best of both worlds: a perverse pleasure in playing with his prey and a controlled sanity to temper it.

Her mouth snapped shut.

"So, no objections to the majority of the decorations being in green, Granger?"

"None whatsoever."

Her voice was clipped. Hermione sipped her tea, carefully banking her thoughts as her eyelids lowered. His head tilted as the conversation continued to swirl around them. It would have surprised her to know that the dark fire burning within his eyes was reflected in, or perhaps reflective _of_, the very same one within her own chocolate depths.

Both of them looked up at the sound of clapping. Professor Merryworth was smiling brightly, her hat comically lopsided.

"Well done, everyone. That should be enough for today and please make sure that each person completes their assigned duties according to schedule. Any problems should be directed to either the Head Boy or Girl and we'll meet again the first weekend next month. Dismissed."

As the group of students rose chatteringly, Hermione vanished her parchment with a wave.

"Granger?"

She turned to see Gideon just outside the door, freshly scrubbed and grinning. Responding with a relieved smile of her own, she walked over to him, moving aside as the others exited the room.

"Hey, you're here."

"Yeah, heard you had a meeting again. Ready for supper?"

Chuckling, she gestured at the remains of the pile of scones and pastries.

"Do you think so?"

"Well, there's always room for dessert, so they say. Oh wait, maybe just Red says that."

Laughing together, they headed towards the Great Hall, Gideon cheerfully fending off various conversations from other students. He smelled lovely, like clean soap.

"Did you just get back from Quidditch practice?"

"Yeah, did two straight hours. Constance came up with this great warming spell on our gloves. It gets pretty rough out there in winter what with the wind and cold; the fingers tend to stiffen up and it's hard to really do much."

Rubbing the back of his neck, the two of them walked along in moment of comfortable silence. The rain continued to fall just outside the open pillars, making small dark splatters on the flagstones. The scent of wet grass rose up around them, quintessentially English and pleasing.

"Say, Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

She heard him pause and looked up at him curiously. He had slowed down, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"What is it?"

"I was uh…wondering if maybe you'd like to go to ball with me."

Hermione blinked and then hid a smile. She had to give him credit; he'd asked her much more steadily than Viktor had all those years ago.

"Me?"

"Yeah, I just thought that since you'd gone to all the trouble of planning it, it would only be fair if you had fun too."

His face was faintly flushed, which Hermione found rather endearing considering how popular he was and the fact that there were probably plenty of girls lining up to ask him out. More importantly however, it reminded her that if she did not agree, it was most likely that she would end up having to partner with Riddle himself.

"I'd love to."

He returned her smile, clearing his throat.

"Good, right, then that's settled. Uh, well, you hungry now?"

Taking pity on his blatant attempt to change the subject, Hermione nodded. He started heading towards the Gryffindor table but stopped when he noticed she was not following.

"Head table remember? I'll see you in a bit."

"Oh, right. See you in a bit."

Watching as he headed towards a wildly gesturing Wills and mischievously grinning Allegra, Hermione shook her head and made her way down the centre of the Hall. Most of the professors were already there, not to mention Riddle, who was already eating. She sat down next to him, surveying the food that appeared in front of her.

"You know, you're surprisingly childish, Riddle."

He placed a spoonful of yam in his mouth, chewing languidly before answering.

"You think so?"

"Yes."

Hermione took a bite of her sprouts, grimacing but courageously swallowing it. Her parents had always gone on about eating her greens. She turned to look at him and nearly choked.

He was smiling.

Not the sort of sly Malfoy smile that got her hackles up, nor even the crazed incredulity that spread across Voldemort's own face in the beginning. She really knew nothing about him and so had no reference point to base it off of. But if she had to choose, Hermione would have to say that it was…unfamiliar.

His voice was low, barely a whisper.

"You don't know everything, Granger."

She opened her mouth to answer but a chirpy voice interrupted.

"So, Professor Merryworth tells me Hogwarts will be partying over the Christmas. Will we have the pleasure of seeing our two Heads dancing together?"

This time, Hermione really did choke. Coughing into her napkin, she took a large sip of water and did not bother to hide the horror in her face as she peered over at Professor Artill as he beamed at the two of them. The boy next to her continued to chew.

"I-I'm afraid not, Professor. I'm already going with someone else."

"Oh? That's a shame. You look well together."

Neither of them made an answer. Hermione flushed and then paled in quick succession, her knuckles white as she stared down at the fork in her hand. Recollecting herself, she offered her companion a broad smile positively dripping with sarcasm.

"Looks like you'll be all alone on Christmas then, _Tom_. However will you bear it?"

Glittering eyes slid over to her and he looked as though he was about to give his usual biting retort. Hermione tried to keep her expression smug but the way she was searching for his reaction seemed to leak out before she could stop it.

He said nothing though and calmly resumed eating.

In fact, if she had not been paying so much attention to him, Hermione would not have caught the quiet murmur that nearly made her bite her own tongue.

"You get used to it."

-

* * *

**A/N: Before you all come to me and start attacking me for suddenly having Riddle make such an unexpectedly out-of-character remark at the very end, I have to say right here that I recognize that possibility but I did it for a reason. Readers have been reviewing and messaging me with their own opinions of Tom (since J.K. Rowling has left the younger version of Voldemort pretty open for interpretation) and I'm trying to to create a certain type of individual. Like I mentioned in the notes to the last chapter, so far, their interaction is not so much about romance as it is about dancing around each other, so to speak. I've left Tom's thoughts and actions vague on purpose because I like to see how different readers interpret it. And I'm very much pleased and gratified at all your thoughtful responses. **

**Anyways, thank you for reading as always and please do not hesitate to let me know if it feels a bit weird or whatever you're thinking so far! **


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